Home is Where the Heart is
by Monrosalee
Summary: Four-year old, Alba Galloway learns the new meaning of "Home" when she's dropped off at the doorstep of her newest foster parent; Monroe. (Completely AU with minimal exceptions) Rated T for language, sex. refs and violence against children.
1. Prologue

_ Author's Note; Hello and Welcome to my newest story, a story I've had in mind for a few weeks now! To those of you who are currently reading my other story "Promises", do not fret because I am still writing it! I've just taken a short break to get this together! I hope you enjoy it and please see the note at the end!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Grimm or it's characters, however Alba Galloway is mine._

* * *

_ Prologue_

Claire Oliver hates her job.

She's spent the past four years as a social worker, doing her best to find homes for kids who've never had a proper one; never knowing just what kind of person she'll come across when she knocks on their door for the first time.

Her dark eyes meet brilliant green as she glances from the road to the rearview mirror, the rain pounding against the windshield as her car passes a large sign on the side of the road: _Portland, 1 Mile_

"Almost there." she says, filling the silence.

The little girl in the back seat gives no response, but turns her gaze back out the window, eyes following the scenery that passes by.

"_Alba_."

The little girl's eyes flicker back up to the rearview mirror.

The child has received her fair share of the bad sort in her four short years, far more than any child should. Claire was certain that the last couple she'd left Alba with was _the_ couple, but lo and behold, six weeks later Alba was put in hospital, her frail body covered head to toe in purple bruises; and Claire Oliver was appointed back on the case.

Alba Galloway's case file was tossed on her desk far too many times in the three years she's worked on the case and this time, Claire is determined for it to never come across her desk again.

"Does he have any pets?" the tiny voice speaks up from the back seat for the first time in hours.

Claire sighs. "I'm afraid not." It might've been the only thing that could bring a smile to the little girl's face and it pained her to disappoint her under the circumstances. "But maybe he'll get you a fish. You like fish, don't you?"

"Fish are boring."

Claire can't help but smile at the remark as they pull into the small town, finally giving Alba a change of scenery to move her attention to. The past three hours had been nothing but open fields and highways.

Her grip tightens on the steering wheel as she follows the directions punched into her GPS, stopping at a stop sign and then turning on Fulton Street, eyeing the ornate houses that line either side.

It's a cute little town, the familiar sound of dogs barking in the distance and birds chirping despite the rain that continuously slaps against the car windows. There are no visible children around, however, it is a Thursday-_A rather chilly Thursday for Octobe_r, she thinks.

She catches Alba's curious glance in the mirror, looking around the area as Claire makes two rights and then a left on Ravensview Drive.

_414...416..._

"418. We're here." she announces as she pulls into the driveway and parks her black BMW next to a peculiar looking 1974 yellow VW Bug.

"You ready, Pumpkin?"

Her response is the clicking of the seat belt as Alba unstraps it, opening and shutting the door to the car as she climbs out.

"I'll take that as a yes." Claire mumbles as she, too, gets out of her car and watches Alba who's looking over the nice two-story home, the smallest of a smirk playing across her lips as she notices the bright blue bicycle that's leaned up against the house.

Claire lifts open the trunk and pulls out the small duffle bag which carries the entirety of Alba's possessions, far from enough for a four-year old girl.

"Okay, Sweetheart. Here we go." she reaches out a hand which Alba immediately takes in her own as they make their way up the driveway.

They'd been through this before, plenty of times, far _too_ many times if they're being honest. And the fearful expression written across Alba's face is an expression Claire has come to recognize far too easily in the three years she's worked on the case.

Alba pauses at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the house as she studies it once more.

"Miss Oliver?" her voice is almost at a whisper, hiding the quiver within it.

Claire crouches down to her height with an assuring smile, "It's Claire, to you." she tries to make the little girl smile, and is successful despite the few tears that line Alba's cheeks.

"Are you sure this time?" Alba avoids eye contact as she tugs at the social worker's hand.

Claire lets out a sigh. "I hope so. But if _anything _goes wrong, you have my card." she pats the bag in her other hand and Alba nods. "You just call me and I will come and get you faster than you can say 'Alba Galloway'"

Alba murmurs, "That's pretty fast."

Claire grins, "That's right, it _is _pretty fast."

"Okay."

They turn and head up the stairs, and Claire pushes the doorbell which dings, shortly before heavy footfalls echo down the hall and the door swings open.

A tall man with dark brown curls and a gray sweater is revealed in the entranceway, and Alba has to tilt her head quite high to see his face.

"Hi." the young man smiles at both, his gaze lingering on Alba a little longer, who presses against Claire's leg.

"Mr. Monroe?"

The man smiles again, "Just Monroe, please," he responds kindly as he extends a hand to shake. "And you must be Alba."

Alba nods shyly as she taps her shoes together, eyeing them carefully.

_She's shy._

"Please, come in- let me get that." he reaches for the duffle bag and takes it into his hand as they make their way inside. He places the bag by the couch as Alba looks around the house, noting the large amount of clocks that are hung on the walls and the cello in the corner of the living room.

He shows them to the kitchen and pulls out a chair for Alba, offering to help her up as she is rather short.

_He's new to this._ That's something Claire picks up on right away. But she knows she's leaving Alba in capable hands when he brings out some Ritz crackers and two different kinds of juice boxes. He shows them to Alba as he sets the box of crackers on the table.

"Peach Pear or Fruit Punch?"

Alba points at the one in his left hand and he carefully removes the straw and pokes it into the box, handing it to her.

"There you are. How's that?"

She nods. "Thanks."

"Can I show you around? Her room is just upstairs. I finished decorating this morning," he says it with a kind smile, and suddenly, Alba looks up.

"My _room_? You made me a _room_?"

He looks quizzically from her to Claire who half-smirks.

"Why don't we go have a look?"

Alba hops off the chair and all three of them head up the stairs.

Claire comes close to a gasp as they reach the top of the stairway, whereas Alba is left in absolute awe.

It's a beautiful room, wooden walls and a gorgeous chandelier that hangs from above. There are glow in the dark stars put up on the ceiling, and there's a slew of stuffed animals sitting on the nice twin bed.

The social worker's jaw nearly drops at the _effort_ that must have been put into Alba's arrival.

"I didn't know what color bedding you'd want, so I picked up three different ones and thought you could pick your favorite." Monroe moves past Alba and shows her the blue, purple, and red bedspreads.

Alba hurries over and lays her hands on the material, and lifts up the red one after a moments thought.

"Red's my favorite color." Monroe says as he puts the other two in the closet.

Alba grins. "Me too."

Claire is watching them with a smile on her face as Monroe makes the bed, Alba hopping up on it, smiling wider than she had in months.

She looks over at the social worker hopefully, "Claire, _can I stay_?" she lifts up a pillowpet- a gray wolf and clutches it to her chest.

It's the first time those words had ever left the little girl's mouth and the hopeful look in her eyes is one Claire had seen many times. Except it usually ended in Alba being dropped off in her office a few short weeks later with a trembling lip and her body completely covered in bruises. This time, she can't express just how happy she is to finally say: "Of course you can stay, Alba." She looks over to Monroe who's already grinning and back to the four-year old who's face has completely lightened up. "Why don't you stay up here and play with your new toys while we go downstairs and finish some paperwork?"

Monroe pulls out the tub of toys and places it in front of Alba who mouths the word "wow" as she gets off of the bed and begins to go through the box, pulling out all sorts of different things.

The two adults make their way downstairs and back into the kitchen where Claire opens her briefcase and pulls out a few forms.

"Thank you for doing this." she says earnestly as she places them in front of him along with a pen. "She's not used to this."

He looks up from reading the forms, slightly confused. "This?"

She sighs, "_Generosity_. She's not used to it."

The man's forehead creases a bit at the realization. He read in the file that she'd gone through child abuse and neglect for most of her life, however this was completely different. The fact that she hadn't stayed with a... _decent_ human being in her life was unacceptable.

"It's... It's my pleasure, honestly."

And the way Monroe signs those forms as quickly as he can, shows Claire just how much he wants this little girl.

She hands over a copy of her business card, the same card that Alba has hidden away in her bag. However, Claire comes to conclusion that it won't come to much more use for the four-year old. It reads:_ Claire Oliver, Social Worker for Children and Wesen alike. _Obviously it wasn't a card she gave out to just anyone; handing one of those over to a Kehrseite would cause problems. No, these were for her Wesen clients only.

"Just for your knowledge, her father was a Löwen," she takes the freshly signed forms into her hands and folds them back into her briefcase, zipping it up and bringing it to her side.

"And her mother?"

"Unidentified. It's almost as if she never existed- well, she obviously exists, somewhere, but Alba was left on a doorstep just hours after birth." Claire concedes and watches the man's face fall.

"So how do you know of her father?" he questions, folding his arms at his chest.

She nods, "His name was written on a note that was with Alba."

He figures out the rest of the puzzle before Claire even has to say it,

"He's in jail." she says softly, "I went to see him shortly after I began Alba's case. And he made it obvious he wasn't happy that I was there."

They do the rest of the tour without Alba; the house looks clean according to Claire and she can't help but let out a small sigh as she realizes her time here is done.

"Alba?" she calls up the stairs and the little girl meets her at the bottom. "I have to go now."

The short brunette looks a little saddened but nods quickly before crashing into her with a hug, "Goodbye, Miss Oliver," her voice is quiet, buried within the ruffles of Claire's shirt.

She pats Alba's head, "I'll miss you, Pumpkin."

"I'll miss you, too."

Claire has to fight back a few tears with a hard swallow as she walks to the door, pausing in the entrance to look at Alba one last time.

She waves, "Goodbye" and steps out the door, closing it gently behind her before she walks through the rain, down the steps and to her car.

Claire is left both happy and sad as she pulls out of the driveway and back in Seattle's direction, because for the first time in three years, she has a feeling she won't be back.

* * *

_Author's Note; I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, everyone!__ I will be introducing some of that major stuff within the next few chapters, including some people in Monroe's life that Alba needs to meet. This was just the introductory chapter. Good stuff to come! _

_Please Review and Rate! :)_


	2. Kiddie Carts

_In case if any of you are confused/wanted a bit more of information, here's a few things you need to know before I continue:_

_A) These first few chapters are before Monroe and Rosalee have met. It'll make more sense later._

_B) However, I've changed the plot to fit the story better and make it easier for all the characters. So, by saying that, basically Juliette and Monroe have met and she and Monroe along with Nick have already developed a good friendship, even though Monroe and Rosalee have not met yet. If you have any further questions in regards of that statement, don't hesitate to message me and ask! I thoroughly consider your thoughts and opinions and would be happy to explain the matter further._

_That's all for now. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoy what I have coming up for Monroe and Alba!_

* * *

_Kiddie Carts, Voodoo Donuts, and a Big Explanation_

This could very well have been a huge mistake.

There is a four-year old girl sitting at his dining room table, swinging her legs off of her chair in the most adorable fashion while she makes scribbles in various crayon colors on a piece of paper, and he has absolutely_ no_ idea of what to do with her.

Monroe tries to rub out the crease in his forehead as he paces back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, pausing for just a moment to stare at her, thinking about just how terrifying the new scenario was. "She's just a kid," he attempts to reassure himself as he goes back to his pacing.

"Mr. Monroe?" her tiny voice stops him in his tracks. "What are you doing?"

He's positive she's the most precious thing he's ever seen when her beautiful green eyes look up at him, wide and full of curiosity.

He chuckles a little as he approaches the table, marveling over her magnificent work of scribbles and scratches on the piece of paper he'd given her. "You know what, Alba? I have no idea what I'm doing." He's pleasantly surprised when a peel of giggles spill out of her at his statement. Apparently being honest was funny to a four-year old! Good to know. "You don't' have to call me Mr. Monroe, you know." he adds with a smile.

She looks slightly confused, "I don't?"

"You can call me Monroe."

Her mouth forms around the word, whispering it a she tests it out. "Okay. Monroe."

He assumes she hasn't eaten yet when he poses the question, and she shakes her head.

"So," he starts, "what would you like for lunch?"

She drops the purple crayon she has in hand and looks up at him in complete awe, her eyes wide as saucers at the question. Almost like she's never been asked what she wanted to eat before, and she's completely overwhelmed by the endless list of possibilities. "You're asking... Me?" she points a tiny finger at herself.

He nods.

"Wow"

The list of adjustments is literally endless, new things being added every time he opens his mouth. He has dozens of questions; questions he _knows_ would be completely overwhelming for the four-year old, and chooses to save them for another day.

_Little bits at a time._

Even in this case, the sudden knowledge that it surprises her that he wants to know what she'd like for _lunch_, nearly breaks his heart.

She mulls it over for a moment or two, tilting her head side to side as she thinks about her options. Then, a light bulb flicks on in her brain and her eyebrows shoot skyward. With the sweetest smile he's ever seen, she looks up at him and asks, "Is macaroni and cheese okay?"

"Macaroni and cheese is perfect," he beams at her and walks over to the fridge. Her eyes follow him curiously as he pulls open the door and begins to search through the shelves. "We're going to have to run to the store and pick up some more ingredients. I don't have all of them here," he says over his shoulder.

Alba grins, jumping from her chair so fast and runs to the living room, pulling on her red coat quicker than he can turn around to see she's gone.

He chuckles again and meets her at the door, helping her get her arms into the sleeves of her coat. However, his smile fades when he looks down at her tattered blue sneakers. Then, he has an idea.

"You wait here, okay, Alba? I'll be right back."

She nods and stuffs her hands in her pockets as he turns and walks down the hallway. He reaches the hall closet and pulls open the door, in search of something he'd hidden away_long_ ago.

"Aha!" He exclaims in triumph as he pulls out a pair of red rain boots- a pair that belonged to him when he was a kid.

They were a gift from his parents for his sixth birthday, the exact pair he'd picked out in the store. All the kids in his class had a pair of rain boots; and red was the best color, according to him.

He hears little feet bouncing down the hallway toward him, her voice echoing from the far end of the hall, "What is it? What is it!" Alba asks excitedly and he turns to show her the boots.

Her eyes light up with joy when she lays eyes on them, "Red!"

He nods, "These were mine when I was little," he places them in front of her and she kicks off the shoes on her feet. "Here. Put your foot in." he opens the boot a little wider and she places her tiny hands on his broad shoulders to steady herself as she slips her just-as-tiny foot into the boot, and then does the same for the other.

He grins as he watches her spin around twice, doing a little dance in her boots. "How they feel?" he asks and she jumps up and down, still testing them out.

"Good!" she sings as she continues her little jig, and Monroe's almost bent in half as he laughs. Alba, too, has gone completely red as her giggles bounce throughout the house along with her footsteps.

Never before has he seen a kid so happy over a simple pair of rain boots before, but somehow he knows, to Alba, they aren't considered 'simple'.

He nearly chokes when she barrels into him for a hug, her arms far too short to come completely around his body. He hesitates at first, not quite sure what to do, but when her bright green eyes meet his dark ones with a beautiful smile, he gently rubs down her hair and smiles back.

"Come on, Bug. Let's go get those groceries," he says, patting her on the shoulder as he starts to walk down the hall. He turns back around when he realizes she isn't following, but looking up at him with a rather confused expression on her face.

"What is it?"

"You called me 'Bug'" she looks almost saddened, "Did I do something wrong?"

He immediately crouches down to her height, shaking his head, "No! No, you didn't do anything wrong. My mom used to call me 'Bug' when I was a kid. It's sort of like a... a term of endearment, you know?"

"Oh." she sounds rather relieved. She grins before taking off in a run, calling behind her: "Come on, Bug! We're gonna be late!"

He shakes his head and lets out a laugh, following her to the door and getting more used to her every minute.

The rain has calmed down enough, that they decide it's okay to walk to the store.

"It's only a couple of blocks away."

Monroe pulls open the door for Alba and they step outside, but not before he stops dead, his breath catching in his throat as Alba slips her tiny hand into his palm. He looks down at her and grips it gently, smiling briefly before he locks the door behind him. And for the first time since she'd arrived, he decides that maybe, just maybe, it isn't so scary having this little girl in his life.

xxxxx

The light drizzle patters against Alba's rain coat, and Monroe can't stop himself from putting up her hood to shield her perfect brown locks and precious face from the rain.

She looks up at him, one eye shut as the rain taps her cheeks, her hand still clutched tightly in his.

It feels so natural for him, having Alba around. Almost as if she'd been there all along. He feels so carefree as they walk down the street, even if it's something as simple as walking to the grocery store. It couldn't get any better than this.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" the tiny voice speaks up from below, and the sudden interest in his love life surprises him, bringing him to a chuckle.

He sighs, "No, I don't." He never really put it to much thought, especially since Angelina left. Not to mention that, right now, Alba is all that matters.

She shrugs, "I think you should." She says it like it's the most natural thing in the world, so honest.

This time, he looks down at her in utter bewilderment. He can't believe how smart she is for four! "You think so?"

Alba nods, "Mhm"

They reach the grocery store shortly after that, and Monroe pushes the door open for Alba, who ducks underneath his arm, stepping inside and out of the rain.

"How would you like to help me out?" He asks, and she nods excitedly as he finds one of those kiddie shopping carts by the entrance. He places it in front of her and they begin their scavenge for ingredients, Alba happily pushing the cart throughout the search.

She follows him around the store and he keeps a close eye on her as she attempts to place multiple boxes of cookies and sugary cereals into the cart, hiding them underneath other items as they walk around.

He catches her in the middle of the act and she freezes, letting the box of 'Double Stuff Oreos' slip out of her hand and clatter to the floor. He takes a step toward her and she cowers into a shelf, covering her head in her hands, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

No one's around to hear Alba cry, and Monroe crouches down immediately, his hands up at his chest as they shake. "Alba, it's okay!"

She peeks an eye through a gap in her fingers, slowly letting her guard down.

"Alba, I want you to know something, okay?" He finally croaks, his arms falling to his sides.

She slowly nods for him to continue.

"I will _never_, ever hurt you. _Ever_." And it's in that moment, right then and there in the middle of their grocery shopping that little Alba Galloway lets her walls come down enough to finally learn to trust.

She falls into his outstretched arms in a pool of cries, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as he scoops her up and clutches her tightly to his chest, whispering the words, "It's okay" over and over into her ear as he rocks her gently. And he knows she's not just crying over what happened in the past five minutes. He wipes a few of the stray tears away from her face as he sets her back down on the floor.

He pulls out four boxes of cookies and two boxes of cereal and places them back on the shelf, leaving one of each in the cart, "How about we just get one of each for now, and come back later when we need more? Sound good?" he asks and she nods before they find the rest of their ingredients, along with some meat for him to cook for Alba. She is a growing girl, after all.

xxxxx

They make it back home before the heavy rain starts, stopping first at Voodoo Doughnut, where Monroe buys Alba her very first 'Chocolate Chunk MM Bunch' which she thoroughly enjoys.

"Here, kiddo." he gently brings his thumb to the corner of her lip, rubbing the chocolate away.

She freezes, eyes following his hand, but relaxes after moments thought. They walk the rest of the way home in silence, except for the sound of the water that splashes the ground and the dog that barks from across the street as they pass by.

Alba peers out the window in the living room as she watches the heavy rainfall slap the ground and the cars that stir up water as they fly by.

_Home._

Alba never had a place she considered 'home' in her life. She spent most of it moving from house to house, nothing more than a meal ticket and a waste of space; a punching bag. But there was something about this time around that was different from all the others. For the first time in her entire life, she felt safe here. For once, she was _home._

"Alba?" Monroe calls as he steps into the living room.

Her dark ebony curls smack her in the face as she spins around; and something about the expression on her face tells him that she was thinking hard.

"Lunch is ready!" he smiles at her and she runs toward him and into the kitchen where he lifts her up on the wooden chair.

She looks up at the fridge and breaks out into a huge smile when she sees her drawing stuck to it with a magnet.

He makes sure the Mac and Cheese has cooled down enough before he places the bowl and spoon in front of her. "Would you like some milk to go with that?" he asks and she nods.

"Yes please!"

He pours her a glass and carefully sets it down in front of her, plopping a straw into the white liquid.

She mumbles what Monroe thinks is the word 'Thanks' before she's stuffing her spoon into her mouth faster than she can chew.

"Whoa!" he chuckles and she slowly removes the spoon from her mouth, her cheeks not unlike those of a chipmunk's as her jaw, very slowly, begins to move up and down.

"I'm not going to take it away from you if you don't finish it in five minutes, Bug. You can always have more if you're still hungry." By the reaction he gets, he has a feeling she's never been told this in her life.

She finishes her lunch slowly, sipping her milk in the silence Monroe has no idea how to fill. He asks her if she's still hungry, just like he promised he would, but she shakes her head.

He looks at her and can't help but grin, "What would you like for dinner?"

Alba's jaw drops.

xxxxx

It's almost an hour before Alba makes her decision (with Monroe's help, of course), but it _is_ made, eventually. They spend most of the afternoon showing her around the house; the basics she needs to know to get used to the new environment: Bathroom, where his bedroom is, and how to use the phone.

"Only for emergencies, though, okay?" He sets it back down on the cradle and she nods, like this new information of _learning how to use the telephone_ is the biggest responsibility she could ever take into her tiny hands.

Monroe agrees to take her clothes shopping tomorrow after they bring her duffle bag upstairs and moved the minimal of her clothing to the dresser drawers. It's now he realizes she only has one pair of pajamas.

"What kid only has one pair of pajamas?" he asks himself quietly as Alba clambers back up the stairs.

He reaches in her duffle bag and the thing he pulls out is a teddy bear, making him smirk at all of its character.

"That's Corduroy." she points to the bear, "Claire gave him to me for my birthday."

"He's a very nice bear!" Monroe hands it to her and she plays with its ears before setting it next to the other stuffed animals on the bed.

Six o'clock rolls around the many, _many_ clocks just as Monroe is pulling dinner out of the oven.

Alba sits in the living room, 'reading' a picture book he had given her when she hears a knock at the door.

"Bug?" Monroe calls from the kitchen, "did someone just knock at the door?"

She's pulling it open before it even registers in her mind that she shouldn't open the door for someone she doesn't know. But when the two pairs of eyes fall on her, wide and shocked, she's not quite sure how to move legs.

"Uhhhh..." Nick Burkhardt stammers as he makes eye contact with the little girl in front of him, "Hi."

She stares at him for a few more seconds before she's running off into the kitchen, calling Monroe's name at the top of her lungs.

Juliette looks over at Nick, her eyebrows hitting her hairline, "Who was that!?"

Nick shakes his head, "I have _no _idea."

"What is it? What's wrong?" Monroe asks as Alba drags him into the living room. He barely manages to pull off his apron before he's making eye contact with Nick. "_Oh._ Hi guys."

Alba presses close to his leg, hiding behind him as she nervously peeks at the people who stand in the doorway.

"Well," Monroe begins, "you better come inside. You're lettin' all the cold air in and something tells me you guys are gonna be here for a while."

That, is a definite.

* * *

_And there's chapter two! I hope you're enjoying what I've given you so far! More good stuff to come!_

_P.s I totally made up the Chocolate Chunk MM Bunch thing. I have no idea if such a thing actually exists._

_Please Review and Rate! :)_


	3. The Calm before the Storm

_Thank you to each and every one of you for all the kind reviews and follows and favorites! I'm so happy you're all enjoying my story! I hope you enjoy the stuff I have planned! _

_P.S, there's a bit more dialogue in this chapter! _

* * *

_The Calm Before the Storm_

This is not exactly how he planned on the evening going.

Dinner plans with Nick and Juliette completely slipped his mind, and for good reason, too. And that good reason still hides behind his leg, her grasp on his hand tightening every passing moment that his friends stare at her from across his couch.

They're shocked; he knows they are. Truth be told, last week he told Nick about his thoughts on taking in a foster child, how he thought it'd be good for him. It'd be nice having someone else around. But he knew right then and there that the Grimm didn't believe he'd follow through. By the expression on Nick's face, he can tell he's still trying to process the not-so-new information and sudden realization that his friend was in fact, telling him the truth. The proof is right there in front of him, green eyes staring straight back into green, completely saucer-eyed.

Alba presses even closer to his leg, gripping his hand with all her little might as she eyes Nick and Juliette warily. Her eyes glance between the two, studying them carefully like they're bombs that are about to blow up, destroying everything in their path.

Monroe clears his throat, suddenly finding it oddly tight and all three pairs of eyes look up at him. He meets Alba's gaze and gives her an assuring nod. _You can trust them._

He takes a deep breath, "Alba, this is Nick and Juliette." Turning his attention to Nick, he gives him a look of plead.

He watches Nick as he holds out a hand for and Alba's eyes flicker from Nick's hand to the badge on his hip and then back up again. Monroe wants to say _She's a little shy,_ but before he can even get out the first word, she's taking his hand in hers and allowing him to slowly shake it up and down. "Nick to meet you, Alba. I'm Nick."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Nick."

The detective chuckles and he has to admit, he's a little surprised. Juliette takes a step forward and offers her own hand, her turn for introduction.

"Hi, Alba. I'm Juliette. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Her warm presence coaxes a smile from the little girl and Monroe is relieved to feel Alba's grip lessen an exceptional amount as she steps out from behind him.

Maybe this wouldn't be so tough after all.

xxxxx

Conversations are moved into the kitchen and Monroe hoists Alba up on her chair, offering her a fresh piece of paper and her new crayons to color with. Nick and Juliette sit opposite, watching her with a mixture of awe, confusion and complete and utter amazement all at once, if possible.

Monroe puts the kettle on the stove for tea, a tea he just recently purchased from a market just a few miles away.

Dinner had long since gone cold, and Monroe heats it up for Alba, setting a plate of it in front of her as she yawns. It was quite a long and action-filled day for her, including showing Juliette her new bedroom and the picture she drew that now resides on the fridge.

He gives her a little bit more food than she'll be able to eat, however, even the _thought_ of the her going to bed hungry all those nights before infuriates him. But there's no way in hell he's letting her go to sleep with a gurgling tummy anymore.

Alba has lived in such conditions for most of her life, getting nothing but some bread and cheese for dinner – if she was lucky. She hates recounting the memories, but they come back to her all at once; the yelling, the beating, the bruises. Everything. Her body still has yet to recover from the last couple she stayed with, the angry man's voice booming through the house like thunder in the sky, not long before his palms coming down on her skin in the places he _knows_ will be hidden beneath her clothes, hiding the bruises for no one else to see.

She shakes out of the memory as the kettle announces boiling water and Monroe moves to lift it off the element before it can cause any more noise. That whistle is one of his least favourite sounds and by the expression on Alba's face, she feels the same way.

Tea bags afloat, he sets two mugs in front of his friends and takes a seat next to Alba, who eats her food in silence.

"Thanks," Nick and Juliette look at each other with a smile as the word comes out in unison.

Nick looks over at the tiny brunette that sits across from him, her tiny nose scrunched up for no particular reason as she eats, brown curls resting just past her shoulders, twisting one around her tiny finger. "So, Alba," he starts and she looks up at him curiously, "How old are you?" he has an idea, he remembers Monroe mentioning a little girl from Seattle when he first told him last week. However, making conversation is the best way to get to know someone, right?

She holds up four fingers. "But I'm gonna be five on March 26th!"

Juliette grins, "That's gotta be exciting," she chimes in as she takes a sip of the tea, the smell of camomile and vanilla lingering in her nose.

Alba nods, "Mhm! I'm super _duper_ excited about it!" She puts the last fork-full of chicken in her mouth before she sets the utensil on the plate.

All of the adults smile at her enthusiasm. "You should be! Five's a big deal!"

Monroe grins as he watches his friends interact with her, bringing an arm around her small shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Monroe," Nick starts and it's his turn to look up. "Have you told her about your annual Halloween hype?" he asks with a smirk, one of his eyebrows arching upward. "Wait till you take her trick or treating!"

They all chuckle, but then have to consciously stop their jaws from dropping when Alba says with a smile, "What's 'Trick or Treat?'"

Monroe's too shocked to say anything at first. The little girl next to him really doesn't have _any_ idea of what she's missing out on, and what she's missed out on. "Well, Alba," he finally manages to get words out, "On Halloween-," he prays to God she knows what Halloween is because if she doesn't, he's pretty certain his heart is going to crumble, "Kids like you get to dress up as whatever you want and go around the neighborhood getting candy from houses!" he explains in the way that he hopes makes sense for someone her age.

Her eyes go wide, "I get candy!?" she asks excitedly and they all nod. "And I get to dress up as whatever I want?"

"There's lots of stores around town that sell costumes especially for Halloween. So yeah!" Nick grins, "Anything you want."

"Wow."

Alba looks over to Monroe. "How long till we can go?" She's pretty much bouncing in her seat, despite how heavy her eyes look. She must be exhausted.

He chuckles, "Well, it's October 4th today. So that means we have to wait for another...27 days until Halloween."

Alba's face drops. "That's a long time."

"But it'll come fast," Monroe gently pats her on the shoulder, "It always does."

Monroe's pretty sure he's never been this excited for Halloween in his life.

And that, is saying a _lot._

xxxxx

Not much time passes before Nick and Juliette are back out the door, but not before they make plans for Monroe to drop Alba off at the Animal Hospital tomorrow to spend a few hours with Juliette after they're finished their shopping.

_"You work with puppies!? I gotta see the puppies!"_

She's downstairs in the bathroom getting into her pajamas as he fluffs her pillow and pulls back the sheets of her new red bedding, not forgetting to place Corduroy right there in plain sight for when she comes back.

"Monroe." Her little feet clamber back up the stairs, "Can you help me reach the sink? I'm too small."

_Oh._ He wants to smack himself on the head. Of course she can't reach the sink. She's four. Again, adjustments. "Okay, Bug. Let's go." He offers his hand and she takes it as they go back down the stairs. Monroe can't help but grin as Alba takes each step with both feet, hopping down each one. "We'll get you a stool tomorrow," he adds when they finally reach the first floor and head to the bathroom.

He lifts her up and allows her to clean her mouth at proper height, which she does with her tiny green and blue toothbrush and even tinier teeth.

"All good?" he asks when she spits the last of the toothpaste down the drain.

She nods, "All good."

He sets her back down on the floor and her bare feet take off down the hallway and back up the stairs with such speed, it's a good thing his legs are far longer than hers or it'd take him a few moments to catch up.

She's already in bed when he reaches the top of the stairs, her tiny feet hidden beneath the blankets. He walks over with a smirk and begins to tuck her into bed. "Now, you remember where my bedroom is, right? Just downstairs and down the hall?"

"Uh huh"

"Well, if you wake up in the middle of the night and need someone, just come wake me."

"I can't wake you."

"Really?" he grins as he tucks the sheet just under her chin, her tiny hands holding Corduroy close. "I'm sure all I'll need is a good poke."

She frowns, "You won't be mad at me?"

"I'll never be mad if you wake me up, Alba," the ache in his chest worsens at the thought of her being yelled at for something so little.

"_He_ always got mad at me. He made me call him Daddy and he got mad at me whenever I got scared. He hurt me." She says quietly and Monroe swears his heart has broken in half. How dare he?! How dare _anyone,_ for that matter. How dare he tarnish the word Monroe hopes she'd one day reserve for him.

'Daddy.'

"I'm _never_ going to get mad at you for waking me up. Never. Got it?" he asks kindly despite the heavy ache in his chest.

She nods, "Got it."

"Okay. Would you like the light on or off?"

She ponders it for a moment as she rolls on her side, facing him. "Mmmmm... off please." He reaches out and gently strokes her hair back, despite how much he wants to bend down and place a kiss on her head. However, they're not ready for that. Not yet.

"Goodnight, Alba." he says as he moves further toward the staircase, "I had fun today."

She grins, "Me too." And what she says next makes his heart ache even more. "Thank you for wanting me."

"It's... It's my pleasure."

He flips the light switch and makes his way back downstairs; pretty sure he wants nothing more.

xxxxx

Alba clutches her bear into her chest as the lightning fills the sky just outside her window.

She hates thunderstorms, the way the thunder booms in the sky, reminding her of when _Daddy_ would bring his fits down on her, for no reason at all. Despite how much she pleaded, how much she apologized, there was no stopping it.

_His room is just downstairs and down the hall. Downstairs._ She thinks she can make it if she hurries, if she runs. She wastes no more time, but throws back the covers and bolts from the bed, her tiny feet pounding down the stairs and down the hall.

She sees his bedroom door open and she flies through it, launching herself on the bed in a clustered pile next to him.

"Alba." Monroe immediately sits up and scoops the crying child into his arms, resting a comforting hand on the back of her head as she buries her face into his chest and allows the tears to fly freely. "Hey, hey, Alba. It's okay, I've got you. I've got you, Sweetheart. I won't let anything happen to you."

And she knows he's right. He won't let anything happen to her here. Not now, not anymore. He gently rubs circles around her back, holding her tightly as she sobs. The entire time she's been here, she's tried to stay strong, keep herself from crying; and now that she's started, there's no stopping her.

He eases his grip, but continues to rock her gently in his arms, and murmurs things against her hair. She can't understand everything he's saying, but she's finds comfort in it anyway and eventually her sobs calm down enough for her to get a proper breath in.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Did you have a nightmare?" he eventually asks, but she shakes her head.

"I wasn't sleeping. The storm," she chokes out, "It scares me. _He_ used to hit me on nights there was storms."

He doesn't ask about him, and Alba's thankful because she doesn't want to talk about him; doesn't want to think about him. But Monroe does pull her in a little tighter and she doesn't hesitate to cling to him just as fiercely, if not more.

"I'm not gonna let him hurt you. Never."

She sniffles and marvels at the fact that his shirt is covered by her snot and tears, but it doesn't bother him at all. In fact, he pulls her closer to his chest, gently rubbing down her brown curls.

"Now," he scoots over, patting the place next to him. "You sleep, and I'll be here the whole time"

"I can _sleep_ here?"

"I like the company," he smiles at her and she curls up next to him, knowing that he's letting her stay for her own sake, even though he pretends it's for his. However, she doesn't argue.

Every so often, the thunder claps in the sky and her body starts to shake with fright.

"Hey," he says, wrapping an arm around her, "I'm right here. It's okay, honey." He hesitates at first, but leans down and presses a feather-light kiss to her head. She needs it, and if he's being completely honest, he needs it, too.

Her breath evens, despite the odd hiccup that makes her jump, but his hand continues to rub circles on her back and before she knows it, she's falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_Thank you so much again for reading! I'm really looking forward for you guys to see what's coming up in the next few chapters. Including someone who's going to be quite important to the story! Thanks for reading!_

_Please Review and Rate! _


	4. Sly as a Fox

_Okay, I'm back! Hey everyone! Thank you all for being so patient with me. I've been extra busy the past few days, preparing for the new school year to start, however, I did finally manage to hunker down and write this chapter for you; and it's a long one! More Monroe in this chapter! and LOTS of dialogue this time!_

_ I hope to post at least two new chapters before I start school again. I hope you enjoy chapter four! Let me know what you think!_

* * *

_Sly Like a Fox_

There's sunlight streaming in through the window and a tiny foot pressed into his side.

Monroe blinks his eyes open and looks down to find that Alba is rather close to the end of the bed, with one of Monroe's pillows clutched in her little arms.

With a smile, he gently slides one hand under her back and another under her knees, straightening so she isn't so close to rolling off the bed, and he settles back down to stare at her, because he's has nowhere to be today.

He had taken a week off from the clock business to get settled. Even though he still had some minimal work to do to finish up a few clocks, he doesn't mind being away from it all even for just a week. It's nice to take a break every once in a while and to spend time with Alba to get her used to her new home.

_Home._

Oddly enough for him, this house never felt like this. There was always something about it that felt... incomplete, and no matter how many times he changed the dishes or painted the walls, there was always something missing. But by the feeling he has in the pit of his stomach as he watches her tiny chest rise and fall, knowing she's here and she's in his life now, shows him that this house is _finally_ home. And the little girl next to him is worth every bit of the fight it took to get her here.

Her brow creases and she stretches, nearly knocking him in the jaw with her tiny fist.

He chuckles as he lets her slowly awaken: her eyes blink open and she stares at the far wall for moment, and he can clearly see the panic begin to settle in until her eyes finally find him and she calms.

"Hi."

"Hi, he responds. "Shopping today?"

Her eyes widen and she nods excitedly. He can't help but wonder if she's ever gone shopping for her own clothes before.

"But I've gotta warn you," he adds, "I am no good at picking out clothes, even for myself."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm horrible at it," he says with a smirk. For whatever reason, he always seemed to drift toward the plaid section when he goes shopping. Either that or the wool sweaters.

She sighs, "It's okay. I don't think I'm gonna be good either."

Her intelligence amazes him every moment she opens her mouth.

"And of course, we can't forget your afternoon with Juliette at the animal shelter."

By the look on her face, she _had_ completely forgotten about it – until now, that is.

"So," he starts and claps his hands together, "how about I cook us up a batch of strawberry pancakes and then we can head out?"

Her mouth splits into a grin and she kicks the blankets off, scrambling to brush her teeth and he can't help but laugh as he pulls on his robe and briefly wonders if she's ever had pancakes.

There's a first time for everything.

xxxxx

Pancakes are had, and Alba seems to enjoy them, seeing as she's gotten more syrup on her face than in her mouth.

"Here, kiddo." Monroe gently wipes her face with a damp cloth and she sets her fork down on the empty plate. "How were the pancakes?"

"The best."

He chuckles. "Alrighty then! We'll get you dressed and then we can go to the mall."

She jumps off her chair and bolts up the stairs, and Monroe can hear her pulling open and closing her drawers. It saddens him to think of her self-sufficiency, curious about how many mornings she's had to pull herself out of bed and get herself dressed for the day.

In a few minutes, she's back in the kitchen wearing a bright red t-shirt and a pair of jeans, both of the knees torn. Good thing they're going shopping.

"That was fast," Monroe says as he puts the rest of the dishes away.

She nods, "I'm super fast!"

"Your coat is hanging by the door. Why don't you go get that on and I'll go change."

She nods again, "Okay." And her little feet are springing off toward the door.

xxxxx

He's positively certain he's the most terrible shopper on the planet as they head toward the kids section, Alba's tiny hand clutched tightly in his.

"So..." she looks up at him with an expectant look on her face, "what do we do?"

"I'll guess we'll have to find out, Alba," he offers and she seems satisfied with that.

They go through plenty of different racks of clothes, all varying in sizes and colours and Monroe can't help but find the tiny items completely baffling. Every once in a while, he sees Alba's tiny brown head hiding within a rack and grins when he walks by and she jumps out, hands out like claws with her biggest attempt at a scary face.

"RAWR!"

And he of course, acts terrified.

"Why are there so many?" Alba wonders aloud when she holds up four different shirts with her little hands.

"I have _no_ idea," he, too, shows her a few pairs of pants, "how about you try these on in that change room over there," he points, "and I'll wait right outside."

She looks a little nervous, but he gives her an assuring nod, "If you need my help, all you have to do is call my name."

"Okay."

Monroe finds a teenage employee, who unlocks the stall for Alba.

"Thanks," he looks at the blonde's name tag, "Katie."

She nods, "No prob."

Alba scurries inside with the pile of clothes and locks the door behind her.

He stands right outside the door and looks at the ceiling as he taps his foot to past the time. He considers knocking on the door to check if she's alright; she's taking a little longer than she should, when he hears her voice echo from inside.

"Monroe? I need help."

The lock clicks and he gently pushes the door open to reveal Alba completely tangled up in the striped long sleeve shirt, her head where one of her arms should be.

"I'm stuck," she sighs and struggles in the sleeves.

"Hold on, hold on," he chuckles and crouches down to attempt to free her.

Her head pokes through the proper hole, but her arms are still pretty jumbled.

"I _was _stuck."

"You were."

"I'm sorry."

He pauses, frowning. "You don't have to apologize. Everyone gets stuck, me included."

Her eyes widen, "You do?" her voice is so quiet, so unsure, and he realizes in that moment that she's actually frightened.

"Of course! I get tangled up in a lot of things, all the time. But you know what?" he asks as he taps her nose.

"What?"

"It's all right because sometimes we need someone to come and untangle us."

She smiles at him and turns around, lifting her arms up so he can help her take the shirt off, which he does. And then he sees it: Bruises, dark purple and blue covering most of her back and shoulders.

He tries not to gasp, he really does, but it escapes anyway despite his best intentions. And Alba immediately freezes. Her arms fall to her sides, and Monroe's need to tear apart the person that did this to her is warring rather brutally with his desire not to frighten her.

"Hey," he tries to hide the quiver in his voice as he gently turns her around to face him. He gets her red t-shirt back over her head as she wipes the visible tears away from her face.

And the way she looks up at him, so fearful and... _ashamed_, completely breaks his heart.

"I'm sorry," she whispers and he has to keep himself from letting his own tears fly.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Sweetheart, I-" he struggles for something to say, "I promise. You didn't do anything wrong."

He scoots a little closer and it's to the girl's credit that she doesn't back away from him. His hands are shaking, but so is she so perhaps it all evens out. It takes her a moment, but she wraps her tiny arms around his neck, holding onto him with all she has.

Monroe however, is trying not to treat her like glass as he gently rubs down her dark curls, wondering how the _hell_ he didn't emotionally prepare himself for something like this. He read her file, over and over and _over_ again. He listened to the social worker explain the situation. "Abuse" was the term thrown around again and again, used to describe situation after situation, but still, he didn't think of what would happen when he actually _saw_ the bruises marring her perfect skin. When he _thought_ of the men whose palms were imprinted in carefully considered places to be hidden beneath her clothes.

He never _realized_, which is why he's half-slumped sideways on the floor with Alba standing in between each of his knees, placing her trust in him, of all people.

"Alba," he says her name softly, still trying to hide the pain in the way his voice comes out.

She looks up at him, eyes still red but surprisingly, a small _smile_ on her lips as he wipes a tear away from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asks.

He nods, swallowing back the lump in his throat. Still, he wonders how many other hurts she's hiding where no one else can see, on her skin and in her heart.

Monroe stands up and picks up the clothes they're buying, "Come on, Kiddo. Let's go." And his touch is still hesitant when he places a gentle hand on her neck to guide her out the tiny room.

Alba looks up at him as they exit the mall and cross the parking lot to the car. "I'm gonna be okay."

And this time,_she's_ reassuring _him._ Just with those four simple words, and he hopes beyond hope she's right.

Because he will do anything and everything to make sure she is.

xxxxx

"This place is big" Alba's eyes wander down the long hallway as they walk, Monroe eyeing each door carefully, looking for 'Silverton'.

"There it is," he says as they reach the one at the end of the hall. It seemed like an eternity just to walk from the entrance to here.

"Is Juliette here?"

Right on cue, the door swings open, Juliette standing there in a long white coat, her auburn hair falling past her shoulders. "Hi, Alba!" she crouches down and Alba gives her a hug.

Juliette waves to Monroe over the little girl's shoulder, which he does in return. "Hi," he greets with a smile.

Alba turns to face him, a big smile on her face despite what happened in the mall.

"Okay, so... I'll pick her up in a few hours then?" he stuffs his hands in his coat pocket as shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"Sounds good. Thanks for bringing her, Monroe," Juliette smiles in return and Alba waves goodbye.

"Bye!" she takes Juliette's hand and the door closes, leaving Monroe in the empty hallway, the only sounds coming from the barking dogs from other rooms.

He walks back down the hall and heads out the door to his lonely car when a shrill ringtone comes from his pants pocket.

"Monroe," he answers, leaning up against the VW.

"Hey, Monroe, it's Nick," the Grimm's voice comes from the other line, "Is Alba with you?"

Monroe shakes his head, "No, I just dropped her off with Juliette. Why...?" he had a feeling Nick was in need of help right off the bat, but still, every time he calls, he has to ask.

"I need your help with something."

"Why am I not surprised. What's up?"

There's a pause on the other end before Nick's voice comes back. "Her name is Rosalee Calvert and-"

"Wait," Monroe interrupts, eyebrow creased as he racks his brain for an answer. "Did you say Calvert?"

"Yeah. The spice shop owner. His name was Freddy Calvert. Rosalee's his sister."

"_Was_..."

Another pause.

"He was murdered last night."

Monroe sighs. What a shame. He never knew Freddy on a personal level, however he was a pretty nice guy and never hesitated to stock him up on the newest teas the shop had to offer.

"And by the look of things," Nick continues, "it seems like the suspects were after something in the shop. The same guys broke in again this morning and Freddy's sister god a good enough look at them for us to get a sketch of their faces. And now we have their ID's. We just need to know what it was they took from the shop so we can know where to look."

"Where should I meet you?"

"The shop. It's on Fulton St."

Monroe nods, "I'll be there in twenty."

"Thanks, man."

The phone clicks and Monroe stuffs it back in his pocket, climbing in the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

What a day.

xxxxx

Monroe drops off Alba's new clothes and stool at the house before heading to the shop.

The streets are practically empty, maybe the odd stray that runs across his path, however, he doesn't mind the solitude. It seems like ever since Alba arrived, his mind's been in overdrive; but still, he wouldn't change a second of it. He looks out his windshield at the clouds that loom overhead and prays another storm isn't coming. After last night, he doesn't think he can bear to see Alba in that state again. He still pretty shaken up about it all, but he thinks he's got a pretty good idea on how to help her through the rough nights. Not to mention sooth himself.

It's about time he brought his cello out again.

Nick's leaning up against his car as Monroe parks beside him, ducking his head as he steps outside.

"Thanks for coming," Nick says as they head up the sidewalk toward the shop. There's a sign that reads: _Exotic Teas, Spices and Herbs_

Nick raps at the door three times and there's a short wait before light footfalls creak the wooden floors inside, and the door is pulled open, revealing a _beautiful_ woman, the most beautiful woman Monroe thinks he's ever seen. Her dark brown eyes are rimmed with red, but still, Monroe can see the creases at the corners he hopes are from smiling. Her dark hair is curled gently, but she tucks a stray piece behind her ear as she grips the door frame.

"This another partner?" she asks, gesturing to him and he's trying to remember what his name is.

He hears things coming from Nick's mouth, the courtesy introduction, most likely.

"Monroe, this is Rosalee Calvert."

They shake hands, and no, there's no 'magic spark' he's seen in movies. Nor has he ever expected that kind of thing. But he can see she's trying to read him, figure him out and being honest, it's a little intimidating.

"I knew your brother. I'm sorry."

She lets them inside and he can feel her eyes on his back as he follows Nick through the shop and down the rickety steps.

"The suspects most likely took whatever it was from down here, none of the shelves upstairs were torn apart.

"So basically we look around here for anything that a wesen would consider worthy of stealing?" Monroe half-chuckles.

"Basically."

"Then let's get looking."

They rummage through boxes and scan the shelves for about a half hour with no luck. Just before they're about to give up, Nick pulls open one last box.

"Hey. There're some jars in here and it looks like some of them have been taken."

Monroe walks over and picks up one of the vials, holding it up to the light to have a better look. He's seen it before, kids at school used to sell it before an exam to 'calm the nerves'. Luckily, he stayed clear of it. "I can't be certain but it looks a little like 'J'"

Nick's eyebrow arches. "'J'?"

"It's derived from a kind of mold, Jaycine, it's called. It's lethal to most of humanity but it has an _opiate_ like effect on... _us__._Used correctly, it's an incredible painkiller," he continues, setting the bottle down on the counter, "but if it's used for recreational purposes... It's like mixing Meth, rat poison and helium."

"Yeesh," the Grimm's face screws up, "Not so good for you, I'm guessing."

He nods, "Not so good for your brain, in specific. But if you had a brain you probably wouldn't be using it in the first place."

They look up as the stairs creak once more, Rosalee joining them in the basement.

"Have you found anything?" her voice is soft, but Monroe can hear the pain she's hiding. Something he's been doing a lot lately.

Nick nods, "A drug called 'J'? Have you heard of it?"

She takes a long pause, like she's thinking about something she already knows the answer to; like she's... _resistant._ "Yes," she answers, folding her arms across her chest. "I was hooked for seven years. That's why I went to Seattle – to get clean."

"These men, the men that killed your brother, do you know where they might get some more of this?" Nick shakes one of the bottles, "We have their ID's, my partner, Hank found them based on the explanation you gave us at the precinct this morning.

She sighs. "If they're looking to score, it'll be an Island of Dreams."

Monroe's mouth falls open. "A _Traumensel?_ Here? In Portland?"

Rosalee nods, "They're everywhere."

"Well, do you know where we might find one?"

Another nod."Yeah, but we can't go until nightfall. No one will be there until then."

"Nightfall's not far. It's already six."

"I better call Juliette," Monroe starts, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "Looks like Alba's gonna have to spend a few extra hours with her."

"Who's Alba?" Rosalee asks, uncrossing her arms.

"Alba is my... she's my... sort of quasi-foster daughter," he settles with that and he's sort of surprised by the look he gets from the brunette. Approval.

"How old is she?"

He smirks. "She's four, but turning five in November." With that, he brings the phone to his ear and waits patiently as it rings.

"Hello?"

"Juliette? It's Monroe," he says as she answers.

"Oh, hey! Alba's doing great," she looks over her shoulder and smiles at the child who's completely surrounded by kittens.

Monroe hears Alba's laughter echo in the background, "That's great, thank you so much for looking after her. But Juliette, can I ask you a favour?"

She nods, "Sure, Monroe. What can I do?"

"Do you think you can keep Alba occupied for a few more hours? Take her to your house? I need to help Nick on a case and I can't take her with me," he sounds nervous and he knows it.

"Of course I can. It'll be nice to have some... girl time with her."

"Great, thanks Juliette."

"No problem."

His iPhone goes back into its special spot in his pocket and he rocks back and forth on his heels, "And now we wait." he says, filling the silence.

Rosalee nods. "And now we wait."

xxxxx

He hates the dark.

Luckily for him, there's no full moon tonight. He and Nick wait patiently in the car, watching Rosalee who's across the street, getting their one-way tickets into the 'Island of Dreams'. Clearly, she knows what she's doing. They see her slip the cash through the blacked out windows and Monroe finally lets his breath go when she turns and walks back in their direction, two slips of paper in her hand.

She slides inside the vehicle and gives directions as Nick drives. It's not much of a wait, and before long, they're pulling in front of a building she once hoped she'd never have to see again. And here she is, unbuckling her seat belt, ready to dive right back in.

"No," Nick shakes his head as she goes to open the door. "You wait here."

She gives him a serious look, "He's my brother. I should be the one going in."

He steps outside and approaches her open window, "You've done enough." He extends his open hand and she reluctantly slips the tickets into his palm.

Rosalee watches them go, watches them walk up a path she's gone up far too many times than she likes to admit. She doesn't know why she feels nervous; she barely knows either of them. Not to mention that one of them is a _Grimm_, someone she's feared her entire life, and being honest with herself, she still hasn't decided whether she's afraid of him or not. But the other one, a Blutbad, as declared just before they left the shop, she's not sure _what_ exactly she thinks about him...

_"You said you knew my brother?"_

_"Yes...?"_

_"I just had to make sure."_

But she still wrings her hands, a habit she developed ages ago as she waits in silence. He has a _kid. Father suits him._ She thinks with a soft smile.

It feels like an eternity before people are running outside, screaming as gunshots fill the air.

Rosalee pushes the car door open and makes her way around the corner, watching carefully as Monroe runs outside, looking around the area.

She's about to make herself known when _he _shows up – one of the men who broke in; and he's holding a gun at Monroe.

The Blutbad's hands are at his chest and it's killing him to think of Alba, completely oblivious about what is going on. Probably at Juliette's eating dinner. _You can't do this to her. Don't leave her alone again._

And then it happens. The man is falling to the ground in front of him and there she is, Rosalee, standing behind with a brick clutched firmly in her hand.

"You" he mouths, chuckling as he lets his hands fall to his sides. That's all he manages to get out as they look at each other, sharing a smile.

And one thing's for sure: the feeling he has in the pit of his stomach is a feeling he hasn't gotten in a _long_ time.

xxxxx

Monroe mulls over his thoughts on the evening as he tails Nick's car in his VW. He met a Fuchsbau, caught two criminals, _and_ had his life saved by the same Fuchsbau whom he can't stop thinking about, all in one night.

He's exhausted, yawning every five seconds, but pulls into the driveway and follows Nick up the front steps and to the door, which Juliette pulls open before Nick can stick his key in the lock.

"Don't worry, she's asleep." she smirks and looks over her shoulder at the ball of blankets on the couch Alba's surely hidden inside.

"Thanks for watching her," Monroe says as they walk inside and he scoops the sleeping child into his arms. She stirs a bit, but rests her head on his shoulder and goes back to a light snore.

"It was no problem, really. She's a great kid."

"Speaking of, I should probably get her home and into bed."

"Thanks, Monroe. I appreciate your help tonight," Nick speaks up as he takes his gun out of the holster and sets it on the side table. "You were pretty sly tonight." he adds with a chuckle, "Sly as a _fox."_

Monroe gets the reference and rolls his eyes as he walks out the door, leaving Nick laughing and Juliette confused as ever.

Alba stays asleep the entire ride home and even when he gets her in her new pajamas and tucked into bed. He watches over her as she pulls Corduroy to her chest in her sleep, and he's pretty sure he's never loved anything as much as he's loved her, and she's been here for two days.

He's in so much trouble.

* * *

_Thanks again for reading chapter four! And also for being so patient. I hope you enjoyed it!_

_Please Review and Rate! :)_


	5. Autumn Leaves

_Hey guys! I'm back with chapter five! Now, I hate to disappoint any of you who were hoping that Rosalee and Alba were going to meet in this chapter, they won't be, unfortunately. However, they most definitely will be in the next chapter. You'll probably get a better understanding at the end of the chapter why I didn't want them meeting just yet. But trust me on this: You're going to love what I have coming up for Monroe, Rosalee, and Alba. I promise. Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think!_

* * *

_Autumn Leaves_

Seven days. It had been seven days since Alba had arrived at his doorstep and since then, Monroe had been schooled in many things, not the least of which was the art of the bedtime tuck-in, getting the bath water's temperature _just_ right, brushing hair without it hurting, and of course, which sugary cereals are better than others.

_"No, Monroe, Fruitloops! We gotta go with Fruitloops!"_

But the one thing he failed miserably at? Braiding hair. And of course, Alba had let it slip that it had been attempted, giving Nick blackmail material to hold over Monroe's head until his dying day.

"Monroe!" Alba yells from the top of the stairs, grabbing his attention. "I can't find my shoes!"

"Which ones?" he calls back as he packs egg salad sandwiches into bags for Alba's afternoon outing with Nick. He called this morning offering to take her out for one last picnic before winter hits. It's October and getting cold. Soon all the leaves will be long gone and Monroe will have to figure out what one does with a manic five-year-old indoors.

In addition, it gives him an excuse to go see Rosalee today.

His only difficulty has been the issue of trying to decide when the proper introduction between the two will be made – but he still has to actually _make_ the proposition to Rosalee and today seems like the perfect day to start.

"My sneakers!" Alba's voice pulls him from his thoughts.

"They're in the back of your closet!" he calls up.

There's a moment's silence before he hears a "Found them!" coupled with the familiar thumping of her trying to kick her shoe on without untying the laces first. It's one of the many noises he's come to love, along with the soft snore that escapes her when she sleeps on her back and the giggle that starts low and ends high, resulting in a full-on laughing fit.

He's memorizing her, slowly but surely, as she occupies more and more of his heart every day.

He chuckles as he tosses two juice boxes into the bag and bundles a blanket on top of it all just as Alba hops down the stairs, still taking them one at a time with both feet, bouncing down to the bottom.

"Almost ready?"

She nods, "Uh huh!" She can't seem to hide how eager she is for today, and Monroe, of course, doesn't mind it one bit.

Right on cue, the Suburban honks from the driveway.

"Okay, Bug." Monroe zips up the back pack and slings it over his shoulder as she bolts to the door.

"NICKY!" she hurls herself at him, hugging him tightly.

Nick scoops her up in his arms once he gives his proper greeting, "Hey kiddo! How are ya!" he plasters a kind smile on his face despite how hard it is to feel how far too light she is in his strong arms.

"Good! Monroe packed juice boxes!"

"Ooh. Please tell me you packed cranberry."

Monroe gives him a look. "Lucky for you, I did, " he hands him the backpack and Nick slings it over his shoulder, hiking Alba up further on his hip.

"Well then, we better get going! Can't leave the chipmunks waiting."

Alba shakes her head, "No we _cannot._"

Monroe beams. What a smart kid. He turns his attention back to Nick, "Thanks, Man."

"No problem. Enjoy your day," The Grimm winks and turns, carrying Alba down the front steps.

He sets her in the back seat and buckles her in.

"Good?"

She nods, "Good."

Monroe stands at the door, grinning as Alba waves at him and he waves in return. He keeps steady eye contact with the vehicle until it turns at the corner and he can see it no more.

xxxxx

The bell chimes overhead as he steps inside and out of the cool October breeze, the leaves rustling along the sidewalk at his heels as he gently closes the door behind him. And then he sees her: A sweater-clad Rosalee, up on her tip toes with a box of spices, he presumes, up above her head as she tries to place it on a high shelf.

"I'll be with you in a moment!" her singsong voice echoes throughout the shop as she turns to see who her newest customer is. "Oh! It's you! Hey!" she smiles at him and just like that, he's _gone._

"Here, I got it," he rushes over and relieves her of the heavy box, placing it on the shelf with ease.

"Thanks," she huffs out a breath, dusting her hands off on her tan jeans. She tucks a piece of stray hair out of her eyes, letting the rest of it fall just past her shoulders in loose, natural curls.

He attempts to break the silence, "So... How's your day been...?"

She bites her lower lip, smirking at his continued effort to make conversation; something she was never good at as a kid. All the other kids in her class called her 'Quiet Calvert'. "Good, so far. Yours?"

By now he's pretty much certain he'll never be capable of resisting that face again, slowly memorizing the many facial expressions she has to offer, his favorite being the smile she gives him when he tries to explain a mechanism in a clock, which isn't exactly considered funny. But by the way she laughs every time at his fascination with the subject, it's working for him.

"Good. So far, so good," he half-shrugs, simply trying to not look as awkward as he feels. However, that feeling diminishes when he spots the bouquet of flowers he gave her last week, still in their vase and just now, beginning to droop.

It was Alba who picked them out. She had no idea who they were for, nor did she ask. However, she _did_ run around the florists', carefully analyzing every single bouquet until she found one she was satisfied with.

_"You gotta get those ones. Those ones are the prettiest!"_

And of course, he ended up buying the ones she chose, and she must have excellent taste because Rosalee loved them. Right then and there, he decided that he needs to trust Alba more with his decisions, specifically regarding the woman who now stands right in front of him.

"So," Monroe claps his hands together, pulling himself from his reverie, "How can I help?"

Rosalee grins, seemingly thinking up a thousand different things he can help with; most likely all consisting with something to do with reaching or putting anything too heavy on the shelves a woman of just 5'4" like herself can't reach. Which is totally fine by him.

"Well, for starters, we have to move everything from those boxes," she points to the pile by the door, "to those shelves."

He nods, "Sounds simple enough."

Yeah. It wasn't.

xxxxx

The drive isn't too long, half an hour at the most, but still, Alba doesn't hesitate to call from the back seat every two minutes or so: "Are we there yet?"

Finally, Nick pulls in the entrance to the park, the gravel crunching underneath the tires.

"We're here," he says with a smirk as he puts the Suburban in park and Alba's suddenly scrambling to unbuckle her seat belt.

Nick comes around the back and opens the passenger side door for her, offering a hand to help her get out. She springs out of the vehicle and lands neatly on the ground next to him with a big grin, which he returns. He finds the backpack that's rolled toward the other side of the car floor and rests it on his shoulder, shutting the door behind him.

"Come on, Squirt. It's just a little bit of a walk and then..." he trails off, noticing her staring at him. "What?"

"You called me 'Squirt'."

Uh oh. "... I did. Is that okay?"

She nods and bites her lip, trying to hide a smile and failing. "I like it."

"Okay." The leaden weight that had suddenly dropped into his stomach disappears and they start to walk.

Just like she did with Monroe, Alba reaches up and slips a tiny hand into his palm like it's the most natural thing in the world and Nick can't hide the smile that spreads across his entire face.

It's not too far of a walk down the path before they're in an open area that's completely surrounded by forest.

"Nicky, are we gonna go on an adventure?" Alba hops up and down as Nick sets the bag on a picnic table that resides in the middle of 'their spot'.

"We could do that," he replies as he helps her up on the bench. He unzips the backpack and sure enough, beneath the blanket and juice boxes are two brown sack-lunches, each labeled separately.

He puts the one with "BUG" scrawled on its face in front of Alba and she opens it with a smile, pulling out a piece of paper and carefully unfolding it. She tries to read the words, squinting her eyes. It doesn't help.

"Can you read it to me?" she hands it to Nick and he reads it once through in his head:

_Dear Alba,_

_Nick's probably going to have to read this to you because you can't read it yourself yet, but I promise, I'm going to teach you soon. Along with how to ride a bike and how to carve your first pumpkin and maybe even how to play a bit of cello._

_Have fun with Nick today, (don't wear him out too much, just a little) and be safe. Go play in the pretty leaves. That's the best part about fall! :)_

_Find another one for our collection._

_Love,_

_From, Monroe_

He smirks when he comes across the word 'Love' striked out and replaced with 'From'.

Nick recites the words to Alba before she pulls out her egg salad sandwich, (Monroe had learned by many sandwich taste-tests, that this was by far, her favorite), and she unwraps it from the plastic wrap. The massive bite she takes is far too big for her small mouth, but she still manages to chew and swallow it all without choking. Lucky for Nick.

Nick sits down across from her and opens his own lunch and with a grin, pulls out a note similar to Alba's.

It reads:

_Just bring her back alive please._

_Thanks, Man._

_-Monroe_

And of course, Nick barely keeps himself from breaking out into laughter.

They eat lunch in silence, the only form of noise coming from the slurping they make when they try to get the remaining juice that resides at the bottom of the box. However, when they're finished, (and by popular demand) they head off down the trail on their adventure.

He keeps close range with her, making sure she doesn't round a corner or duck off into the bushes without him knowing. The last thing he needs to do is lose Monroe's kid.

'_Monroe's kid' _He thinks, smirking a little at the sudden statement he's just subconsciously made. And he's pretty sure he's never heard anything that could follow Monroe's name that sounds more natural than that does.

Alba collects fallen leaves along the way, pausing to examine each one closely, tracing the tiny pad of her finger along the lines that branch off to either side the bright orange one she has in hand. It's a new hobby she developed over the past few days and she and Monroe have been keeping track, putting them in a scrapbook for her, and each day, they compare different types.

"This one's pretty!" she calls from just up ahead, running back in Nick's direction with an orange one clutched in her small hand.

He crouches down in front of her and looks down at it, watching her carefully as she continues her examination, contemplating whether it's worthy or not of her ever-growing collection. And he can't help but admire her complete and utter fascination and her ability to recognize the beauty in literally everything, something he so wishes he was capable of doing.

She's quite the special kid.

Alba's about to hand him the leaf when a branch snaps over to their left.

"What was that?" she whispers in his ear. She feels her heart rate speed up and the goose bumps spread across every part of her body as she inches closer to Nick. "Nicky, there's a monster in the bushes!"

The tiniest of what he considers a smile plays across his lips as he rests his firm hands on her tiny shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "Should I go investigate?" he asks.

She begins to shake her head so fast, he's sure if she shakes it any faster, it'll fall right off the shoulders beneath his palms and topple right to the ground. "_No,_ Nicky. The monster will eat you!"

Another snapping twig, another child's gasp.

Suddenly, the presumed 'monster' emerges from the bushes; and that monster, is none other than a small white rabbit.

Alba's shoulders drop with a sigh. "_Oh._"

And this time, Nick can't keep himself from laughing.

xxxxx

The strong wooden walls creak around them as minutes turn into hours – two, to be exact. It's taken two whole hours to unload everything from the many, _many_ boxes, and they've spent the last half hour or so trying to get everything organized.

Rosalee walks in from the back room, two vials in her hands as she approaches the shelf nearest her, and Monroe follows close behind with the box of sorted jars. "Look, I really appreciate you helping me out with all this." It's taken days to get everything back in shape, even though it only took hours to take down. And thankfully for her, Monroe is there to make things go twice as fast, not to mention an excellent for of company she could never turn down; nor would she ever want to.

Monroe chuckles as he hands her each jar and vial from the box. "Well, you never know when I might need a discount on something."

Is that so? She thinks to herself with a smile, playing along. "Mhm, like what?" she winks at him and can't keep herself from grinning when the tips of his ears go red.

He reads the label off the nearest vial, his eyebrow arching high as he tries to pronounce each syllable (and failing). He picks up a different one and has much more success, "...Tinkture of Prickle Poppy?"

"That's for um... romantic stamina," she says, gently taking the vial and placing it on the shelf.

_Oh_. "That's probably why I've never heard of it."

Her laugh echoes throughout the shop and an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction shoots through his body as he joins in along with her, pretty sure he's never heard anything as beautiful as that sweet music.

Once the laughter subsides and they're able to breathe again, Monroe takes a peek out the window, looking at the bright sky, the brilliant sun blaring on the streets of Portland. A beautiful day for a walk to the coffee shop just two blocks away...

"Hey."

Rosalee looks up from the box, catching Monroe's eye, "What's up?"

"It looks like a pretty nice day out... Wanna maybe go get some coffee?" There's a pause and he immediately regrets asking. She's going to say no. "Or not, you know, whatever. I mean, if you don't wanna go, that's fine too, I just thought that maybe-"he stops rambling long enough to see her grinning at him like she's slept with a hanger in her mouth.

"Of course I want to go," she walks over and gently pats his shoulder. "Just let me go grab my purse and we can get going," she spins around and heads off into the back room, leaving Monroe completely beside himself. He's never felt this strongly for a woman in a long time, if ever, and this is just the beginning.

xxxxx

Alba's dancing through the pile of leaves nearly as quick as Nick can get them in place, jumping and running as they flutter in the air around her. It's quite the beautiful sight to see, her laughter echoing through the park, through the trees and the wind, whisking away into nothingness. And he wonders why the hell someone would think to hurt a child as perfect as she is – any child, for that matter. Monroe told him the other night over a beer after she spent the day with Juliette. He had never seen Monroe so distressed and panicked as his best friend rubbed his hands over his face and rested his elbows on the table.

_"She's been hurt."_

_"What?"_

_"They beat her, Nick."_

She was abused in her previous homes, and he's pretty sure he's never wanted to hunt a criminal down more than he wants to find the man who did this to her and tear them to shreds.

Putting the bad thoughts aside, Nick pulls his phone out and starts snapping pictures as Alba tosses more leaves in the air, letting them fall past her shoulders and back to the ground before she repeats the process again. There will be no un-captured moments today.

"Nicky, come play!" she throws a fistful of multicolored leaves at him, hitting him square in the face.

"Just a sec, kiddo. I'm checkin' in with your da- uh, I mean Monroe. I'm checking in with Monroe." Luckily for him, Alba doesn't seem to notice and he proceeds to send the text message before joining her in the leaves.

"Ready now?"

Nick nods, finding immeasurable joy at putting a smile on that child's face.

"GO!" she laughs and they begin tossing leaves at one another.

She seems to enjoy the freedom, the ability to just be. Having the joy of just being a kid, something he doesn't think she's been able to do in a long time. He can tell by how mature she is, she's been forced into growing up way too fast, which is far more than unfair.

Every once in a while, she stops everything and lays there on the ground, taking deep breaths, and letting her eyes close as she sprawls herself out on the yellowing grass. Her chest slowly rises and falls, her tiny hands clenching into fists and crunching the leaves hidden in her palms. She's entirely absorbed by her surroundings, the smell of fall, the leaves that tumble to the ground, the chirping of birds in the distance. All of it. And by the look of content, she wouldn't change a thing, and neither would he.

xxxxx

The sidewalks are surprisingly deserted for a Friday, even with the slight clouds that now cover the sky, shielding the sun. They walk side by side, trying to fill the odd silences that occur with each step closer around the block. They both steal glances, completely unbeknownst to either that they're both doing the same thing.

"Here we are," Monroe smiles as he pulls open the door to the small coffee shop, allowing Rosalee to go first. She smiles, thanking him, before the both go in.

It's quiet, only a few people inside, and they make their way up to the counter to order.

Monroe gestures for her to go ahead, which she does.

"Can I have a Vanilla Latte, just a tad of whip, please?" she asks, and Monroe's jaw nearly drops. That's what he orders. The _exact_ same order.

"I hate it when they OD it with whip," she adds in Monroe's ear. He loves the way she talks like it's some huge secret, in an undertone for just him to hear.

He chuckles and gives her a nod, "_Tell me about it_," and the woman behind the counter hands Rosalee the to-go cup.

"And for yourself?" the woman asks. "We've got a wonderful Pumpkin Spice Latte on right now. Huge hit around this time of year."

"I think I'm gonna stick with my confidante, and go with the Vanilla Latte. Just a _tad_ of whip." he puts emphasis on it with a smile and the woman behind the counter nods.

"Of course. That'll be eight dollars total."

"I got it," Monroe pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands her a ten, leaving Rosalee smiling.

_Thank you_. She says it with her eyes, which have completely lightened up. What a gentleman.

The lattes are good, _just_ enough whip, not to mention the brownie they decide to split after Monroe catches her staring at it longingly from their spot by the window.

"Thanks again for helping me out today," Rosalee speaks up as she takes the last sip of her latte. The kind look she gives him across the table is too much to bear without making him grin – like an idiot, no doubt.

"No problem," he tries to hide the smile from creeping its way across his face, but fails miserably.

He's positively smitten.

"Alba ended up hanging out with Nick today."

She raises an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yeah..." he trails off as he pulls his buzzing cell phone out of his pocket, opening the attachment that comes along with the text. "And by the look of things, they're enjoying themselves," he finishes reading and hands her the phone.

She bursts out into giggles and her hand immediately jumps to her mouth as the eyes flicker in her direction. "Sorry," she mouths to everyone else in the cafe, before she moves her attention back to the picture:

Alba's poking her head out of a pile of leaves, a bright grin on her face.

"She's beautiful, Monroe." she contemplates asking the question she's so dearly wanted to ask over the past three days, after getting to know him more. But she shrinks back in her chair and plops the last bit of brownie in her mouth as a substitute, silently scolding herself as he sticks his phone back in his pocket. But luckily for her, he offers the answer to her question before she has to summon the courage to ask.

Little does she know, he's been having the same trouble.

"Do you want to meet her?" His voice is kind and gentle, sweet and soothing and she knows they'll be no saying 'no' to that.

"Of course I do!" she says, maybe a little too excitedly, but catches herself as she becomes slightly nervous at the thought. "Let's just hope she likes me."

"Are you kidding?! Of course she'll like you. I mean, I do."

Monroe feels the tips of his ears go hot and he's certain she can see it.

But still, she hopes beyond hope he's right.

And he hopes he is, too.

xxxxx

Other people pass through the park as the day goes onward; some even stop to watch the continuous battle of the leaves between the two of them, all smiles as they admire them together. Despite Nick's size in comparison to Alba, she still manages to win, and with great triumph, too.

The original prize is bragging rights, but when Alba has to ask what exactly _that is_, Nick changes it to an ice cream cone from 'The Waffle Window' instead. And what kid doesn't like ice cream, right?

Well, Alba _loves_ it. And getting Monroe's kid hopped up on sugar before sending her home seems like a brilliant idea.

Alba bounces on her chair as she licks away. "I had fun, Nicky," she looks up from her cone, her face completely covered in chocolate and sprinkles. He's pretty sure she's gotten more of it on her face than in her mouth, something she tends to do.

"Me too, squirt."

It's in this moment that Nick realizes that Alba can never sit still. She's either tapping her foot or twirling a long curl on the tip of her finger, or even bouncing on her chair like she is now. He doesn't understand why, but he definitely knows that it's just one more thing that makes her special, that makes her Alba.

He grabs a napkin and gently wipes the sticky mess away from her mouth and cheeks... and everywhere else she's managed to get it.

"All set?"

She nods, "Uh huh!"

He takes her hand in his and leads her back to the truck, (or car, or jeep, or whatever the hell it's called) and straps her in the back seat.

"Is Monroe home?," she wonders as he puts the vehicle in gear.

He shrugs, "I don't know. But I guess we'll have to go see."

xxxxx

Monroe decides to walk her back to the spice shop before heading home. Well, it isn't much of a decision per se, but more of another way of getting the most out of his time with her, which he'll take any day.

"I really appreciate you giving me a hand today... _And_ your height," she says over her shoulder as she shuts the shop door once they're inside.

He chuckles, knowing he could never need thanks from her. "It's no problem, really," he pauses for a moment, staring at his feet before looking back up into her innocent eyes. "...Are you busy tomorrow? I could bring Alba by. You know, if you like," he panics in the moment she's silent. _She's going to say no_.

But every ounce of fear he had dissipates as her mouth forms into a smile. "That sounds wonderful," she finds a pen and a piece of paper, scribbling her phone number down and then hands over to him. "Just let me know when you're on your way," her voice is soft, and in that moment, he's pretty sure he's forgotten how to breathe.

He gently stuffs it in his breast pocket and rocks back and forth on his heels in the silence as they watch each other, both seemingly trying to find something to do with themselves other than stare.

But thankfully, they're saved by the sudden vibrating from Monroe's jacket.

He reads the text message aloud. "It's Nick. He's swinging by my place to bring Alba back."

"I guess their picnic was successful, then?" Rosalee leans up against the counter with a smirk, stuffing her hand into the pocket of her jeans.

"Seems to be," he says amiably as he puts his phone back in its proper place. "I should get going, anyway... I'll see you tomorrow then?"

She nods, "Tomorrow it is."

He takes the scenic route, fondling over the leaves that tumble to the ground, the bright oranges and reds, along with the browns and yellows. He's looking forward to seeing what kind of leaf Alba brings home today. The entire ride home, he hums a tune he's composed over the past few days (despite the missing ending he is still trying to figure out). He wrote it for Alba.

Her lullaby.

His hope is that it will help her sleep through the storms and any other restless night she may have in the future.

Nick's already there when he pulls in the driveway, parking his Bug next to the Suburban. Nick and Alba sit on the doorstep, watching him as he climbs out of the VW, ducking his head to avoid the rim above.

Alba's face splits into a grin when he starts walking toward her.

"There's my girl," Monroe says as he comes around the edge of the car, and that's all she needs to take off like a shot and hurl herself into his arms.

He laughs as he picks her up, hiking her up on his hip. "I take it you had fun?"

"SO much fun!" She's bouncy – a little _too_ bouncy for this time of day...

Monroe scrunches his face, "Did you give her ice cream? Anything sugary?"

Nick immediately looks guilty, and 'she's a kid!' is the only justifiable answer he can think of.

Monroe glares despite the smirk on his face. Still, Alba yawns.

"You're tired?" he asks, surprised when she nods.

"Nap?" she wonders, stretching her arms above her head.

Monroe puts her down on the ground and takes her hand, walking with her up the front stairs and into the house.

Nick follows close behind and shuts the door while Monroe takes Alba to the floor above to set her down.

Heavy footfalls thump down the stairs a few minutes later. Monroe first goes to the kitchen and grabs two beers out of the fridge before joining Nick in the living room.

"Here," he hands one over and Nick wordlessly takes the proffered bottle and raises it to his lips.

"Wanna hear a piece I'm working on?" The Blutbad asks and gestures to the instrument in the corner of the room.

"Alba's lullaby, right?"

"Yeah," he sets his beer down on the table and moves his cello up to the chair in the center of the room, taking a seat. He, very slowly, draws the bow across the strings, letting the notes fall from his fingers. One section folds into the next, creating a simple, yet lovely sort of melody. He's not one hundred percent sure where it's going but it turns out alright; not exactly how he pictured it, but close. And then, just as he's about to reach the part where he runs out of notes, the chord progression changes and falls into the next measure like autumn leaves fall to the ground. And with that, he finishes off on a beautiful, light note.

Monroe opens his eyes to see Nick in front of him, mouth agape.

"...What?"

His friend shakes his head, slightly startled at the sudden noise that isn't in a cello's middle register. "That was great."

"You think she'll like it?" he asks as he places the bow on the table next to the glass bottle.

Nick thinks about it for a moment before a rather large smirk crosses his face. She'll definitely like it, but the answer that comes out of his mouth, the one Monroe might not understand as much as he does, is what makes it that much more special:

"More than ice cream with chocolate sprinkles."

* * *

_There you have it! I hope you enjoyed chapter five! I'm so sorry this took so long for me to write, however, chapter six will be up soon, and much sooner than you think._

_Please review and rate! I love to know your thoughts and opinions. :)_


	6. Contingencies

_Okay, I'm back! Sorry for the wait, this took a bit longer to write than I initially thought. School's been a pain in the ass not to mention real life. Anyway, I'm happy to finally have chapter six finished! I hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think! I love knowing what you guys would like to see/see more of and what you think of the story as a whole._

* * *

_Contingencies_

She knows it's been raining without even looking outside. She can tell by the way the tires stick to the pavement as they slowly meander down the quiet street.

Saturdays don't hold the same sense of loneliness over her head anymore. The book and cup of tea she usually occupies herself with no longer keep sway over her mind; and in all honesty, she no longer needs or wants them to. It's nice having something in her life to look forward to again – _someone_ to look forward to, a shop to keep care of and a few more friends to have at her side, a_ Grimm_ of all people being one of them and not to mention one of her best customers.

She was never supposed to stay here; 'supposed' being the key word. She was _supposed _to leave this town in her rearview mirror and never look back – that was the plan, but instead, _he_ came along and, for the first time in her life, she had a reason to stick around.

She's not as nervous as she thought she'd be, but still, she fidgets with the watch on her wrist as she _attempts_ to do inventory, failing miserably as she moves her attention to calculating how much longer she's going to have to wait before _he_ comes through the door that's just to her left, this time not alone – but with a four-year-old girl at his side.

_Alba._

It's quite the beautiful name, she thinks as she finally marks down 'Valerian' on her notepad in her handwriting, something that's fencing on the lines of a strange form of cursive and a messy scrawl. Still, she manages to read it and that's all that really matters. She pictures the little girl's face in her mind and based on the bright green eyes and dark curls that oddly seem to match each other, the name suits her. She wishes she could give Monroe credit for it, but there are far too many other things he deserves credit for, that the names sweeps its way across the list. He took a child in alone, and that's something she doesn't think she could ever have had the bravery to do. Yet here she is, waiting for the two of them to walk through that door, to make their way further and further into her life and for the first time in a long time, she thinks she's okay with that.

xxxxx

"Al?" he calls up the stairs as he tries to fix the collar of his shirt with one hand, while finishing his third cup of coffee in two hours with the other. "You just about ready?"

Her response is the thumping of her feet as flies down the stairs at a speed that gives Monroe a minor heart attack every time, terrified as he is that she'll end up doing a header to the floor one of these days.

"Well don't you look beautiful," he beams and she immediately goes red. She tugs at the blue blouse she's got on – the opportunity to wear it has finally arise.

"Can you do my hair please?" she shows him the little elastic band she has in hand and he nods despite the fact that he knows how terrible he is at anything to do with fixing her hair. But still, he decides to give it a shot even though he knows it'll just be even more blackmail material for Nick.

"Alright, let's see what I can do," she hands him the elastic as he crouches down and she turns around to allow him to comb through her hair with his fingers. Gently, he pulls her hair back, going for a simple ponytail that still manages to be crooked.

Alba sighs as she turns back around to face him, adjusting the ponytail so it's straight, but still smirking at his effort. "You'll get it eventually. Practice makes perfect," she says, sounding wise beyond her years as she leaves him gaping.

"Your jacket's hanging on the railing; go and grab it," he says as he slides his arms into his own.

She nods and disappears down the hall, but when she doesn't reappear a moment later, he pauses, only slightly concerned.

"Alba?"

She trudges back into the kitchen, the hood of her raincoat hanging over her head as she stuffs her hands in her pockets.

"Come on, slow poke!" she giggles and disappears back down the hall, leaving him shaking his head with a chuckle as he follows behind her.

What a kid.

He listens as the little feet tap out a rhythm on the back of the passenger side seat of the bug and he can't help the smile that spread across his face. He's a little surprised that she hasn't asked him a thousand questions about where they're going or what they're doing on this rainy Portland day, however she does know that she's meeting someone – the person she 'picked the flowers for' as he told her when she woke up that morning.

"Where are we?" she finally asks as he parks the VW next to a red pickup truck.

"Well, Bug, we're here." he takes her hand as they get out of the vehicle and begin to walk up the sidewalk. The air is foggy and moist and if feels as though every time he breathes in, he's inhaling an ocean, but that's not what concerns him right now.

No. Right now, his biggest concern – next to Alba, of course, is the woman whose blushing features haunt his every step. Whose light perfume still clings to his nose and whose face he's pretty sure he can draw in his sleep. And as he watches her through the window as she gracefully moves different bottles around the shop, he can't help but want nothing more than to see the smile on her face once they walk inside.

The bell over the door jingles as he enters, holding it open with one hand and guiding Alba in with the other.

"Wow" she murmurs as she looks around at her surroundings, a thousand different questions all shooting into her head at the same time. She doesn't see Rosalee at first who's giving Monroe the smile he was so longing to see.

Rosalee makes her way around the edge of the counter to stand in front of them both and Alba's eyes finally meet hers.

"Alba," Monroe starts as he kneels down beside her, her grip on his hand tightening just a little as she looks the mystery woman up and down, seemingly trying to figure her out. "This is who you picked out those beautiful flowers for. This is Rosalee."

Rosalee's not quite sure what she plans on doing next, but she goes with her logic and crouches down to the little one's height with a kind, if not a little shy smile and for the time being, just stays silent.

_Give her time._

Still, Alba continues her observation, but after a moment or two, she gives her the tiniest of a smile in return, and for Rosalee, that's all that's needed for the little girl to take over the entirety of her heart.

"You must be the famous Alba."

"I'm not famous," she quickly says, as if admitting anything to the contrary would get her into some kind of trouble.

"Well," Rosalee cautiously extends a hand for Alba to shake, "to me, you are." She offers her a smile that Alba must deem as honest because she then slips her tiny hand in Rosalee's and allows her to shake it up and down. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Alba. I'm Rosalee."

"Hi," Alba replies with an even wider smile, if not a bit of a giggle in her voice.

Monroe can't help but let out the sigh of relief he's had locked up in his lungs since they walked through the door.

"Alba, can I show you around?" The shopkeeper asks as she gets back up on her feet, "It's quite the place."

The four-year-old gives her an eager nod before turning to Monroe. "Can she?"

"Of course, go ahead," he chuckles, and then a thought hits him. "...How about I go get us some lunch and you stay here with Rosalee...?" his eyes meet the woman's with a questioning look on his face as if to say '_If that's alright with you._'

Alba looks up at her, albeit a little nervously at first, but quickly settles with the idea. If Monroe trusts her, so does she.

Rosalee nods, "Yeah, that's fine!'

"Alrighty then. I'll be back in a bit," he places a kiss on Alba's head before walking back out the door, leaving the two girls alone.

"So..." Alba turns to Rosalee. "What now?"

_Oh. Right. _This might be a little tougher than Rosalee thought. There are a couple different options, however, she figures that incorporating her apothecary knowledge as a form of entertainment _and _as a learning opportunity will be a major score, and goes with that.

"Well, why don't we head to the back and you can help me out with something?"

Alba shrugs, "Okay."

And so they do.

Rosalee guides her around the shop, showing her the different bottles and spices, all which vary in forms of use. She skips the potentially dangerous and question-posing ones, but still adds the odd 'but please don't touch any of these unless I ask you to,' just for good measure. She definitely doesn't want the little kid to drink anything and end up in hospital.

Finally, the move to her favorite part of her job: The books. She helps Alba up on the chair and pulls one of the biggest books she owns off of its shelf and sets it on the counter before pulling up a chair next to Alba and begins to search through its pages. She searches for the ingredient list of the first concoction her mother taught her to make and it's not till midway through the book does she finally find it.

"Ah-ha!" she exclaims as she finally sets eyes on it. She skims the list and recounts what she did for inventory earlier, mentally checking off every ingredient they'll need. Thankfully she has everything.

"Alba, over on that shelf in the top right corner, there's a small jar with a yellow liquid inside," she gestures to the shelf that's only about four feet tall. "Can you grab it for me?" she asks, hoping that giving Alba a form of responsibility will show the trust she's placed in her.

"Mhm!"

Alba hops off the chair and scurries over to the shelf, scanning the top row before she catches sight of what she's looking for.

A smile spreads across Rosalee's face as Alba gets up on her tiptoes, pulling it off of the shelf with a reformed "Ah-ha!" just like she had when she came across the page in the book.

"Do you like to read?" Rosalee asks after a moment's silence. Starting conversation is the best way to get to know someone after all...

Alba hands her the vial. "I do, "she responds. "But I didn't get lots of practice at my old home so I'm still not good at it."

"I could help you if you like."

She cocks her head to the side. "Really?"

Rosalee nods, finding the significant amount of joy that spreads across the four-year-olds face simply unbearable.

"That sounds great! Start soon?"

The Fuchsbau smirks, "Maybe we should ask your da – uh, I mean Monroe. Maybe we should ask Monroe first."

Alba's features immediately go tight, and Rosalee thinks it's not right for a child of four to have already perfected the art of a fake smile.

"You like Monroe, don't you?" she offers, thinking that perhaps the little girl fakes it because no one's actually bothered to ask her why she feels the need to.

Alba's silent for a moment before finally offering a careful nod. "I do. Lots."

"He seems like a good man."

"The bestest. He makes strawberry pancakes," is her solemn reply and Rosalee has to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. But why shouldn't strawberry pancakes be the barometer by which all good parents are measured? Surely care and love must go into every batch.

"I'll have to try them one day."

And Alba looks up at her with such conviction and not a little bit of mischief when she replies, "Don't worry. You will."

Rosalee sets the vial in hand on the counter, slightly stunned as the bell rings at the front of the shop, signifying someone's entry. Monroe trudges into the back room, a to-go tray of beverages in hand along with two bags slung over his forearms.

She clears her throat despite the smile she's unable to suppress, so much for potion making.

"There's my girl," Monroe grins and for a brief moment, he has to ask himself which of the two he's talking to.

xxxxx

It's a pumpkin spice latte that he buys her this time, a little form of surprise when she took the first sip, however her mouth formed into a smile shortly afterward.

_"How'd you know I love pumpkin?"_

_He shrugs, "Just a hunch."_

She downs that thing fast despite its heat and Monroe's left with a big smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He's barely halfway through his when she's setting the cup down with a satisfied grin on her face.

Alba seems to thoroughly enjoy her hot chocolate and marshmallows, based on the residue that's left around her mouth as she slurps.

After lunch, he pulls out the cookie he bought her, showing her the icing-smile that decorates it.

Rosalee watches the interaction carefully, admiring how Alba and Monroe seem to fit hand in hand; the way he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek as she munches on her cookie, a cautionary hand on her back that's there for no reason at all. Monroe really does seem like the perfect 'dad' type, fatherhood suiting him well. _Alba_ suiting him well.

The rain continues its steady form of splattering against the shop windows, coupled with the sound of laughter that bounces from wall to wall as the day moves forward. Many times had all three of them managed to make each other laugh and it kills her to watch them walk out the door a few hours later.

"See you soon, please?" Alba offers as she tugs on the hem of Rosalee's shirt, pressing into her leg as a form of protest. She doesn't want to leave and Rosalee doesn't really want them to go anywhere either.

She nods, "Of course, sweetheart. Of course."

"How soon?"

Rosalee crouches down and is slightly surprised but thrice as relieved when Alba envelops her in a hug. "Soon," she mumbles in Alba's ear and the little girl is left with a smile upon parting.

"Ready, Squirt?" Monroe asks as he offers a hand which she immediately takes in her own, something that seems to fall naturally by now.

She sighs. "Guess so. " She waves as they turn to leave, "Bye Rosie!"

"Bye, Honey."

'_Thank you,_" Monroe mouths and with that, they leave the shop, the sound of the bell lingering in the air as she's left alone once more.

xxxxx

"When can we see Rosalee again?" Alba asks as Monroe tucks the blue blanket under her chin, her freshly washed, damp hair draping across her pillow.

It's already ten o'clock and Monroe has to ask himself where the hell this wonderful day has gone. Surely another one can't be too far away?

He chuckles as he places her stuffed animals around her, finding a spot on her bed for him to sit on. "Well, I'll have to call her tomorrow and tell her how much fun you had today. Maybe you can spend the day at the shop with her sometime this week."

Alba face brightens with a grin. "She's going to help me learn to read... but only if you say it's okay."

His smiles grows wider, if that's even possible. "That's great, Bug. You really like her, huh?"

"Yup. Lots and lots and _lots._"

"Well then I'll make sure you see her extra soon," he smiles as he places one final kiss on her head before flicking the light off. "Goodnight, Bug. I'm glad you had fun today."

She nods and he makes his way back downstairs to finish his cup of tea.

What a day.

xxxxx

It's maybe a half hour later that Monroe's in his own bedroom as he pushes his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose as he reads the book he has in hand.

"Monroe?"

He glances up from the book in his lap to find her standing in his doorway, Corduroy tucked in the crook of her elbow, her brown curls falling into a disheveled pile on the shoulders of her purple onesie.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I can't fall asleep."

He chuckles. "I can see that. C'mere." He pats the bed next to him and she's quick to scurry across the carpet. It takes her two tries to hook her foot over the thick comforter, but he scoops her under her elbows and deftly lifts her up.

"Anything bothering you?" he asks, as he tucks her under his arm and settles back against the pillow.

"No."

He places a kiss on her head and runs his fingers through her hair, carefully broaching the next question. "Is it the nightmares? Are you afraid to fall asleep?"

But his fears are for naught, because her answer comes so simply. "Not if you're here."

Oh. So that's what it's like, to have someone trust you so implicitly.

He places another kiss on her head, and continues to stroke her hair, returning to his book as she settles deeper into the crook of his arm, content to just _be._

He tells himself he'll read just two more chapters, but then Alba's breathing evens out and he settles for just finishing one. Her grip on his shirt loosens, but doesn't release, an it's not until the next morning, when he wakes with a book on his chest and a little girl burrowed into his side that he realizes he didn't even finish the page.

* * *

_Ta-da! There you have it! Rosalee and Alba have finally met! Chapter seven will be up soon, seeing as I have planned it out for weeks now. Haha. Thank you all for reading!_

_Please, as always, Review and Rate!_


	7. Phases and Phrases

_Hey ya'll. I hope you're in it for the long run cause this is turning up to be pretty epic. I'm really loving the response I'm getting from you guys. You're all fantastic! __Ps. This chapter is really long...__Oh, and by the way, I had to change Alba's birthday to November, and you'll see why within the next few chapters._

* * *

_Phases and Phrases_

xxxxx

It's five o'clock on the hour when Rosalee trudges up the front door to Freddy's house – the place she's been living for over a week now and is still unable to call her own. She lets out a sigh as she unlocks the door, grocery bags slung over her forearms

She dumps her groceries on the counter and attempts to catch the oranges that roll out of her bag. She manages to save all but one, and it falls to the floor with a dull thud, but she picks it up and brushes it off, placing it reverently in the bowl of fruit on the middle of the dining room table. No harm done.

The phone is shrill when it rings, and despite living back in this place for as long as she has, she still jumps every time the sound breaks the silence.

And all it does is continue to remind her just how alone she really feels.

"Hello?"

"...Uh, hi."

"Monroe?" she doesn't know why she even bothers to ask if it's him or not – she's certain that by now she can pull his voice from a crowd.

"...Yeah. Listen, I'm really sorry to bother you – "

"No, it's fine, really. I'm glad you called." She reaches for the edge of the counter, just to have something to lean against.

"Well, the thing is... How high of a fever is too high when you're four?"

That might have been the most adorable phrasing of a basic question Rosalee has ever heard. "Oh no, is Alba sick?"

"Either that or she's turned into a Wendigo. And to be honest, it's scaring the crap outta me."

Rosalee has started pacing and only when she feels a tug does she realize she's completely knotted herself up in the phone cord. Apparently Freddy's inability to update his electronics is backfiring on her to an ultimate.

"Having a sick kid can be scary, but I'm sure she'll be fine." She inhales deeply bites her lip, not really believing the words that are about to leave her mouth. "...I can come over, if you like. Do you want me to come over?"

He's silent and it's the longest three seconds of her life.

"Would you mind?"

"No, not at all!" she replies and sincerely hopes she didn't come off as enthusiastic as she appears to be. There is a sick kid in the picture, after all. Mustn't get too excited.

"Great. Uh, the address is 218 Ravensview Drive."

"Great," she says. "I'll be right over."

"Great."

That was far too many 'greats,' she thinks as she hangs up the phone and attempts to untangle herself.

She quickly gathers what material she thinks Alba might need and briefly considers stopping by the shop to cook up a simple remedy, but no – she doesn't know what exactly Alba is sick _with,_ so instead, she heads back out the front door and locks it behind her.

It takes her roughly eight minutes to get from her front door to his, and it opens before she can even raise her hand to knock.

"You are a lifesaver," he says, looking pale and not a little ill himself.

"Are you okay?"

"I just – I want her to be okay."

"Monroe," she laughs lightly as she places a hand on his arm. "Kids get sick. It's what happens, it's just a phase. She's going to be _fine._ I promise you."

He looks unconvinced, but slightly less panicked at her words. With a nod, he opens the door further and beckons her in, promptly taking her coat and the bag from her hand.

"I just brought some stuff: Vicks VapoRub, children's cough medicine – don't know where I got that, but it was in my medicine cabinet..."

He looks a little overwhelmed, but she's got to cut him some slack. Most parents have years of dealing with mini-crises – weaning, teething, toilet training – so by the time they get to a four-year-old with a fever, it's a cakewalk.

But not for Monroe. This is a crash course in parenting.

"How about you take me to the patient."

He nods and begins leading her to the living room. "I figured it would be easier to have her near the kitchen. And the phone. And if she wanted to watch TV – The Lion King's her favorite. And – "

"It's a good idea," she quickly says, saving him from himself. "Good idea"

He moves aside and she finally catches a glimpse of Alba, curled up on the couch under what looks like four blankets. She's pale and sweating, yet shivering; and despite what Rosalee says about kids getting sick all the time, she can't help the spike of panic she feels at seeing the little girl looking so fragile.

"Hey, sweetheart," she whispers, the endearment falling easily as she kneels next to the couch.

Alba blinks her eyes open and smiles. "Are you here to read to me?"

"I'm here to do whatever you want me to do."

"I like reading," she says, before promptly launching into a coughing fit. Monroe rushes forward and helps Alba sit up, rubbing a hand over her back and murmuring soothing things in her ear.

Rosalee can't help but hurt for the little girl, and she finds herself squeezing Alba's leg beneath the mountain of blankets.

The little girl is holding onto Monroe's shirt like a lifeline, so he perches on the edge of the couch and scoops her into his arms.

"I know it hurts," he whispers as he places a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry. I wish I could take it all away."

Monroe makes eye contact with her and Rosalee smiles softly, hoping to convey all her confidence in him in that one tiny gesture. It seems to work, because he returns it, and she stands.

"She could probably use some fluids. Do you have any chicken broth?"

He's a vegetarian, you idiot, why would he?

"Uh, yeah, I do," he says after a pause. "I picked some up the other day. It's in the cabinet next to the stove. Here, I'll – "

"No, no. I've got it," she insists, halting his attempt to get off the couch. "You stay here."

He looks apologetic, but the expression is wiped off his face when Alba settles back against him, gripping his shirt once more and sighing into his chest. Monroe looks like it's Christmas come early.

Rosalee starts toward the kitchen, but stops when an idea sparks in her mind. "Monroe, where do you keep your herbs and spices?"

He picks up on her idea and gives her a nod. "Oh, yeah. Good idea," he says and the little girl nods against his chest.

"Good idea, Rosie," Alba confirms as she tries to crane her neck to get a look at Rosalee.

Monroe pats her head as he lets out a chuckle. "They're on the counter next to the fridge."

"I'll be right back with some chicken broth and some medicine." And when she gets to kitchen, her eyes fall on the picture that's taped up on the fridge: Monroe's arms wrapped around Alba as she sticks her tongue out at the camera.

And Rosalee is left wondering how she could care so much for two people she's known for so little.

Xxxxx

The microwave dings but just as she's about to turn to retrieve the broth, Alba gets sick all over pretty much everything. Monroe sits there, slightly stunned, but then Alba bursts out crying and he's immediately in placating mode, kissing her hair and telling her it's completely fine.

"So maybe the broth was a bad idea," she says as she immediately comes forward and folds the soiled blanket up.

"Maybe," he says against Alba's hair, gently rocking her back and forth. He needs to change his shirt, but he sits there anyway, not daring to move until the little girl is calmed. "I know it's not fun, but it won't last, sweetheart."

"What was her last temperature?"

"101.4."

Rosalee scrunches her face; it's definitely higher than she'd like, but maybe they can get Alba to keep down some of the medicine that's still in the bowl on the kitchen counter.

Alba's eyes eventually close and her breathing evens, and Monroe scoots out from under her, gingerly walking to the kitchen, Rosalee at his side.

"It's gotta be some kind of parental rite of passage, huh?" he begins to unbutton his plaid shirt, pulling it from his arms in a careful manner as to not get his white undershirt dirty.

"You can cross it off the bucket list," she smirks at him over her shoulder as she pull the broth from the microwave.

"Rosalee Calvert, always looking at the silver lining, huh?" He turns and leaves the room to get himself a new shirt, leaving her to bring the broth and medicine to the helpless little girl who's pulled herself back into the fetal position on the couch.

She joins her on the sofa, gently setting the bowl on the coffee table as she finds herself a spot amongst the pile of blankets. And if it's the most natural thing in the world, Alba curls up next to her, burying her tiny face in her side.

Rosalee feels a little hesitant when she goes to put a hand on the back of Alba's head, at first recoiling, but then gently pulls the little one closer and begins to soothingly pat down her brown curls.

"Rosalee?"

"Yeah, Pumpkin?"

"Can you sing?"

Huh. Sing. She's never had that request before, but she's pretty sure she'd do anything Alba asked of her.

"Um, sure."

A song comes to mind from somewhere unknown to her, but still, she remembers the tune well enough and she hums it in her ear.

"_Lie down, on your pillow,__/__In the shadows, close your eyes./__Turn out, the old lamp light/ and sing goodnight lullabies."_

He hears her voice as he comes back down the hall, soft and soprano, but a little thin. A smile spreads across his face as he turns the corner and catches a glimpse of Rosalee rocking Alba from side to side as she sings.

"You're good at this." Monroe approaches and Rosalee gently stands, allowing him to take her place on the couch.

And for the first time in a long time, she agrees.

xxxxx

She has a strange look on her face as she watches Monroe carefully putting spoonfuls of the soup into Alba's mouth; a look she'll never be able to explain, but when Monroe moves to stand, Alba's grip on his shirt is fierce and he falls back down next to her on the couch, that look changes to laughter.

"All right, all right."

Alba grins and cuddles back into his side, reveling in her victory.

"You now, Bug, I'm being a terrible host. I haven't even gotten Rosalee a glass of water."

Rosalee smiles and shakes her head. "I know my way around your kitchen by now," she says and he beams.

"Still," he replies, placing a kiss on Alba's head. "I promise I'll be right back."

The girl pouts and some invisible tether almost chains him to the couch at that one look.

"Aw, come on. Don't do that to me."

She pouts harder.

Rosalee's chuckle breaks through the spell that Alba's put him under. "She has you absolutely wrapped around your finger."

Finally he stands and Alba grins. "Yeah, and she knows it," he mutters, winking at the girl as he moves toward the kitchen. "Please forgive my horrible manners, can I get you anything to eat or drink? It's almost dinner time, you gotta be starving by now."

He can see the slight blush in her cheek, but before she can answer, the phone rings and Monroe immediately curses whomever's on the other end.

"Hello?"

"I need your help," Nick's voice says, sounding all business and Monroe immediately straightens.

"What can I do?"

"I know Alba's sick, and normally I wouldn't ask, but there's break-in in the process on Fifth."

"Another one?"

"Yeah. I've been looking for this guy for a few days now and all I know is he's big, and he's wesen. I need an extra hand."

Ah. That's why Hank isn't the one 'giving him a hand'.

Monroe glances at Rosalee, his face apologetic even as hers registers the seriousness on his. "I'm on my way." He hangs up and opens his mouth to explain, but she holds her hand up.

"Whatever it is, go. I'll watch Alba."

"I'm sorry."

"Monroe, go. Really, it's fine. We'll have girl-time."

He feels better at that, but he had promised her he'd be right back. She's been here less than two weeks, and he's already breaking promises.

He hurries into the living room and places a kiss on her head. "Baby, I gotta run and help Nick with something."

He's bracing himself to have to walk away from her pleading eyes and wavering bottom lip, but she doesn't pout, as if she knows the severity of the situation.

"Come back soon," is all she says and he silently thanks her for it.

"I will."

Rosalee offers him a reassuring smile as he grabs his coat and hurries toward the door.

"Be careful," she calls when he turns the knob and he stops, giving her a nod before taking off head first into danger.

xxxxx

He figures the detective will forgive him for breaking every single one of Portland's speed limits as he drives to the shop. Nick's car is already idling a block away, though the driver's side door is open and the headlights are off. Monroe's heart lurches at the thought of his friend in danger and he pulls up behind the cruiser, quietly closing the door and running around the back of the building.

He doesn't make it very far though, as he's tackled while turning the corner, hitting the ground with a hard thud.

"Jesus, I thought you were him," Nick mutters, while gingerly getting off Monroe.

"Dude. _You_ called _me_, remember?" Monroe reminds him, groaning slightly and thanking the gods that Nick is as light as he is. "I think you bruised a few of my ribs, man."

"You'll live. Where's Alba?"

"Rosalee's watching her."

Nick tilts his head to the side, smirking a little and giving him a nod of approval. "Good one."

"Shut up."

A crash is heard inside the shop and immediately both men tense. Nick pulls his gun from its holster, and Monroe immediately questions how smart it was for him to join. He has someone depending on him now. It's not just himself he's putting in danger – if something happens to him, Alba will be taken away and then what?

He shakes the morose thoughts from his mind, focusing on Nick's attempt to jimmy the back door open without making a sound.

"How many in there?"

"The caller thought one."

Monroe nods and wishes he had something a little more substantial to defend himself with than the flashlight Nick pushes into his hand.

"Don't do anything dumb."

And Monroe stops, because Nick's never said anything like that to him before. He's helped the detective out in situations like this – being the personal 'grimmopedia' of one is not exactly ideal – but never has his friend verbally forbade him from doing anything rash. Until now.

Until Alba.

Monroe nods, ignoring the fact that his throat has gone tight and follows Nick into the building as the door finally swings quietly toward them.

They tiptoe through across the floor, but don't make it very far beyond the office. Upon entering the actual shop, Nick is tackled to the ground and the intruder quickly stands and rounds on Monroe, immediately going full-woge on him and swinging a strong fist at his face.

Great. A Hässlichen.

Monroe dodges and lets his Blutbaden form take full swing over him, before lunging at the troll and taking it to the ground.

Unlucky for him, the intruder is much bigger – and much stronger, and throws him across the room into a rather blunt edge – the corner of a desk, and the blood quickly starts to drip from his brown upon contact.

His vision blurs, but the gunshot that echoes throughout the room brings him back to his senses and the beast falls to the ground.

The Grimm emerges from around the corner, gun still pointed at the intruder before letting it fall to his side.

Monroe feels the fur disappear from his face, claws retreating as he stands, his reflexes finally relinquishing their hold on his body and takes a look at their handiwork.

"Yeah, I think we got him."

xxxxx

Alba is well enough to sit at the kitchen table and nibble on some toast as Rosalee prepares an easy pasta dish. Monroe will probably be hungry when he gets home and she can't help the warm feeling she gets in the very pit of her stomach at the thought of how domestic this all is.

She's sipping tea and playing I Spy with Alba in an effort to keep her mind off the fact that Monroe is doing something potentially dangerous with the detective. She doesn't know Nick as well as she'd like to, but he's one of her best customers and that's enough for her at the moment.

"Rosalee, it's your turn!"

"Oh," Rosalee jumps. "Right, yeah, of course." She bites her lip and runs a cursory glance around the kitchen, her gaze landing on an obviously homemade magnet on the refrigerator. Its prominence dead center, pinning up Alba's drawing makes Rosalee's heart swell. "I spy with my little eye, something that is green."

She glances over her shoulder to find the girl squinting adorably as she surveys the kitchen. "The towel?" she asks, pointing to the cloth that's draped over Rosalee's shoulder.

"No."

"Hmm… my plate?"

"Nope."

Suddenly she gasps and points to the fridge. "My magnet!"

"You got it," Rosalee grins, giving in to the infectiousness of Alba's enthusiasm.

"I made that special for Monroe."

"Did you?"

"Uh huh. We made magnets as a craft one day." And suddenly, she asks a question that nearly knocks Rosalee flat. "Are you gonna marry Monroe?"

She chokes on her tea, coughing and spluttering while trying to catch her breath. "Uh no," she manages. "Monroe and I aren't… we aren't…" she trails off as Alba looks expectantly up at her. "We aren't dating."

"Oh. Well, I hope you do. I like you."

Rosalee's cheeks warm. "I like you too."

Alba goes back to her toast, as if the past five minutes have not affected her whatsoever, but still. Marrying Monroe? Where on earth had that come from? She's been in the picture for all of a day! They haven't...she doesn't...

She has no idea.

"Rosie!"

"Yes?"

Alba is giving her an adorably impatient glance. "I spy with my little eye something yellow!"

She searches the kitchen with her eyes, but her heart is trying remember what it is to beat.

xxxxx

Monroe trudges up the front walk, hand pressing against his side in an effort to stop the pain that erupts from his rib cage. His body aches from Nick's tackle and the stranger's attack and he feels both emotionally and physically drained. If forced to sum up the evening in one word, it would probably fall under the category of 'unreal'.

He stretches his neck and groans as it pops, reaching the front door when it suddenly swings back to reveal Rosalee. She's a sight for sore eyes, to be sure, but what makes her absolute perfection at this moment is that he's not just staring at Rosalee. He's staring at Rosalee wearing a pair of his socks.

She must notice his gaze, because she immediately goes red, shifting her weight from one wool-covered foot to the other.

"I'm sorry. I got cold and didn't want to mess with your thermostat and I saw them in the pile of clean laundry and I didn't think –"

"Rosalee," he chuckles, but immediately hunches over when more pain sprouts from his side.

"Are you alright?" she asks, the tone of concern falling from her lips.

He nods as he straightens. "Is Alba asleep?"

"She is. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up."

So he allows himself to be led into the house and helped into the chair at the kitchen table. She frowns for a moment, eyes glancing around the cabinets.

"Apparently I don't know your kitchen as well as I thought I did. First aid kit?"

"Uh, hall closet," he responds, draping his jacket on the back of the chair he's sitting on.

She returns a moment later, giving him a shy smile as she places the kit on the table and makes a noncommittal gesture towards his shirt.

"You, um, you have to take that off."

"Oh." Right. He grabs the hem and tries to tug it over his head, but the short amount of time that he's spent motionless is apparently enough to make his muscles stiff. "Ow."

"Here, here," she says and he feels rather than sees her take hold of the material and help ease it off. "Monroe, how the hell did you manage this?" She gently probes his sides with her nimble fingers feeling for breaks. Her hands wander from his chest to his waist and he hisses as she reaches his ribs. "Sorry!"

"No, it's okay." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, gingerly inspecting the damage himself. "I sorta got tackled by Nick."

"By Nick?"

"He thought I was a Hässlichen." And only then can he really see the cuts and scrapes and rapidly forming bruises in the light of the chandelier hanging from the kitchen ceiling.

"Oh wow. Nick certainly packs a wallop."

He glances down to find his torso black and blue. "Half of that is the fault of the troll. He threw me into a desk."

She raises an eyebrow and opens the kit. "Did he? It's now that her eyes settle on the cut across his brow. "This may sting," she says as she goes to dab it with some rubbing alcohol.

He winces and tries his best not to pull back.

"There, all good." Bandage gently placed across the cut, she moves her attention back to his ribs. "Just bruised, I think."

"Oh, did you get your medical license since last we met?" he teases.

"Watch your words, Mr. You're in my care at the moment." She threateningly holds up the bottle of rubbing alcohol and he chuckles before promptly wincing.

"Ow."

"Don't do that."

"Then don't make me laugh."

"Then don't find me funny."

He laughs again and groans in pain, and she rushes forward placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Shh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She runs her thumb across his creased brow, easing the pained frown from his face. "Better?"

He nods, but words seem to have failed him.

It takes two band-aids, an ice pack, and three ibuprofen to deem him 'fit for active duty.' Rosalee stands with a proud look at her handiwork and smiles.

"You're patched up and I think that's my cue."

"I can't thank you enough for today. For helping me through that... panic attack, and staying... and watching her."

"It was my pleasure," she says with a soft smile.

They're silent, just drinking each other in, but then a sniffle comes from the hall and he looks over to find Alba in the doorway, tears streaming down her face.

He's out of his chair in a flash and dropping to his knees in front of her, pain be damned. "Sweetheart, what happened?"

"I had a bad dream and wet the bed and went to find you, but you were gone!" her voice breaks into sobs on the last word and his heart rips in two.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm right here," he murmurs, gather her to his chest, not caring that her nightgown is damp. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He places a kiss on her head and picks her up, grunting lightly as his ribs protest, and carries her to the bathroom.

He knows Rosalee has followed him, even though she's been mostly silent since Alba arrived. He can feel her behind him, her eyes on his back.

"Arms up, Bug," Monroe gently instructs and Alba is quick to comply. He pulls the nightgown over her head and runs warm water in the tub. Alba turns to stick a finger in and test the temperature and Rosalee's gasp echoes off the tiled walls.

Alba immediately spins around, cowering against the side of the tub and Monroe holds his palm out, not touching her, he grabs onto Rosalee's wrist.

He's trying to say _I know, I reacted the same way, please please remain calm_ in the gentle but firm way he holds her arm, and it's to Rosalee's credit that she doesn't utter a sound. Monroe's eyes, however, never leave Alba's and, after making sure that Rosalee has received his message, he inches closer to the little girl.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Nothing bad's gonna get you. I'm here."

Alba's gaze darts from his palm to his face and back again, before she scoots closer and takes his outstretched hand. "I know," she whispers so quietly he almost doesn't hear and she allows him to wrap his arms around her and gently lift her into the tub.

"Too hot?" he asks and she shakes her head. He grabs a bar of soap and lets her wash her body as he takes a cup of water and instructs her to tilt her head back. She complies and he runs the water over her head, threading his fingers through her brown hair.

"I'm, um, I'm going to change the sheets." Rosalee's voice is hollow and her expression blank, like something irreplaceable has been taken from her and not put back.

"You don't have to do that," he murmurs.

"I want to."

He nods, understanding a little of both her need to leave the claustrophobic bathroom and her desire simply to _do_ something. "Sheets are in the hall closet upstairs."

She nods briefly and disappears. Monroe watches her go for a moment, before returning his focus to the girl in front of him.

Her bruises are still jarring, but not nearly as debilitating as they were that first time in the mall change room. When she asked for his help with her tangled shirt, and he removed it from her tiny, frail body, simultaneously helping her and shattering itself. It was a truth he didn't know he was ready for, but under the harsh bathroom light, he must face his fears head on.

"Do you want to tell me about the nightmare?"

"It was the bad man."

He contemplates whether he should ask, wondering if it's time to tempt fate. "And who's the bad man?"

"Daddy Hannigan. It's what he made me call him," she whispers as she shivers. Monroe not sure whether it's from the cold or the memory.

He's also not sure if he's ever loathed anybody as much as he loathes this man he never met. His urge to find him, to tear him to shreds has heightened since Alba's last mentioning of him, and he doesn't know how much longer he'll be able to contain it.

He lets his breath out slowly and tries not to show his shaking hands as he squeezes the excess water from her hair. "And what did he do?"

He holds a towel up and she steps into it, falling into his chest and letting him wrap the fabric around her. "Hurt me."

He runs his hand gingerly up her back, knowing that bruises stain her skin beneath the cotton. "He won't hurt you again. Not while I'm here."

She tilts her head up and smiles for the first time since coming downstairs. "My hero."

It's such an unexpected answer, especially from her four-year-old moth, that he snorts and holds her a little tighter. "Well, I _did_practice my battling skills tonight."

"Is that why there's a pink Hello Kitty band aid on your face?" she points up at his eyebrow and his eyes follow her finger. Seriously? Hello Kitty?

"Yeah," he sighs, "Rosalee had to fix me up." _And embarrass him too, apparently._

"Can I put band aids on your face too?"

Oh, he's just opened a whole new can of worms he's so not prepared for.

"Sure, squirt," he says instead, picking her up – towel and all – and carrying her to the kitchen where the pile of clean laundry still sits. "T-shirt preference?"

And of course, she pulls one of his from the stack and he places her on the floor so she can slip it on. Her head pops up through the collar, making her damp hair stand on end and he places a kiss on her forehead, trying to gauge her temperature with his lips. She's cooler than she's been all day and he feels the kind of relief one must experience after finding out that a terminal diagnosis is false. Fatherhood might very well be the death of him.

"Wanna try and sleep again?"

She bites her lip and he knows the question before she even asks it. He also knows his answer. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Of course," he replies. "Go warm the bed and I'll be there in a second."

She hugs him around one leg and jogs off to the stairs, her little feet thumping as she takes them faster than she should.

He didn't press for further details, but he knows that Hannigan will haunt his nightmares as sure as Rosalee will haunt his dreams.

xxxxx

She tucks the edge of the sheet under the mattress and spreads the comforter down on top. Her throat is tight and she's fighting a losing battle to keep her emotions in check because every time she blinks, she sees the marks that create the most horrific of patterns on the little girl's back.

Alba's familiar footfalls speed up the stairs and Rosalee can't help the smile that spreads across her face when the little girl enter the room long enough the snatch her stuffed teddy bear off of the bed before taking off like a shot back to the first floor, proving her assumption right when she heads to Monroe's room instead of her own.

She hears Monroe's heavy tread next, and she tries to school her features into something resembling calm as she sits down on the freshly made bed. But the moment he appears in the doorway, she crumbles under the weight of his gaze.

"Hey, hey," he says as he steps forward and sits down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She cries into his chest, consciously trying to keep her sobs quiet.

The abuse of a child is inexcusable in any circumstance, but for whatever reason – knowing Alba was on the receiving end results in a pain Rosalee isn't sure she's felt before or equipped to handle.

Abuse is something she's learned far more in detail than she'd ever like to, and_ knowing_ that the sweet, innocent child she's gotten to know over the past few days was a victim of it for most of her life shatters her from the inside out.

"It's alright. She's alright now," he murmurs and she gathers enough strength to pull away.

"Did you know?" She finally manages as she wipes the tears away from her eyes.

"I knew there had been a troubled past. I didn't know about the bruises until the day after she got here."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Live. How do you… live?"

He's silent for a moment and she briefly wonders if she's gone too far. But when his voice comes, it's positively wrecked. "I live knowing that she's here and she's safe. Knowing that I'll die before I let him or anyone else touch her again."

He continues to rub circles on her back and she realizes with a pang that no one was there to do this for him when he had this realization. The thought makes her heart throb a little more.

"Thank you for making the bed, even though it won't get much use tonight."

She chuckles and finally gets to her feet, "I should really get going. Tell the munchkin I say goodnight."

His gaze goes soft at the mention of Alba and he turns almost automatically toward the stairs, knowing she's just on the first floor and down the hall.

"Thank you again for tonight." His sincerity nearly does her in, and she finds herself replying, "Anytime," and truly meaning any single hour of the day or night.

She starts towards the door, but his hand is on her arm before she makes it into the hallway.

"Look, Halloween's just around the corner and I was wondering if you would maybe wanna take Alba Trick or Treating wi–"

"Yes." she interrupts, too thrilled to be embarrassed about her enthusiasm.

"Yes?" Hope floods brown eyes as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

"To whatever," she breathes. "Yes."

* * *

_Next chapter should be up not to long from now._

_Please Review and Rate!_


	8. Halloween

___This one goes out to Gabriel, the one who gave me the inspiration to finish the chapter. This one's for you, pal. :) I hope you all enjoy it. Please review and rate. :)_

___Halloween_

* * *

It seems like time passes by quicker in Portland.

One minute, Nick's staring down at a four-year-old in his best friend's doorway, the next he's wondering where she's been all along.

The tires of his Suburban crunch the gravel beneath as he pulls into Monroe's driveway, a wide grin spreading across his face as his green eyes settle on the Halloween decor that's placed on every square inch of Monroe's yard, the man himself adding even _more_ decorations to his porch.

"Did you bring it?" Monroe asks as Nick steps out of the truck and makes his way toward him and a wide grin spreads across his face as his eye catches on the black duffle bag in Nick's hand.

"You do this every year?"

"Of course I do! Are you kidding?"

Nick's almost certain he's never seen the man so eager.

"Halloween for us, come on! That's almost bigger than Christmas! _Almost,"_ he pauses, watching as Nick raises an eyebrow. "There's a long wesen tradition-"

"Of course there is," Nick interrupts and Monroe gives him a look.

"As I was_ saying, _there's a long wesen tradition of the All Hallows Eve midnight _woge_ _– _running through the woods scaring the crap outta villagers. Literally, sometimes."

"And you're continuing this fair tradition here in Portland."

Monroe waves the thought away. "No, no, no. I mean, I would, if I didn't have a four-year-old and I could... You know, find some villagers."

"Speaking of a certain four-year-old", Nick cuts him short, "Where's Alba?"

The Blutbad quirks an eyebrow and Nick can see the excitement swarming in his brown eyes. "Rosalee's getting her ready for tonight at her place. Alba's first time Trick or Treating and there's no way in _hell_ I'd be able to do the makeup for her costume."

"...Why? What's she going as?"

Monroe can't hide the sudden grin that splits his face, "A lion."

"You're _not_ serious."

"I am. And she's gonna make a hell of a good one, too."

Nick's eyebrow arches in a mock glare, "Well of course she will. She _is_ one!" he mutters.

The comment makes the Blutbad laugh, which was Nick's intent all along, so he raises the duffle bag in the air in a suggestive gesture, seeing as it's the reason he's here on his doorstep, anyway.

"Alright, lemme see it!"

Nick chuckles and pulls out the _morning star_, as it's labeled in the books in the trailer; a club-like weapon which sports a thick chain with a heavily spiked ball on the end.

"There's the one," Monroe gently takes it in his hands, gently rocking it back and forth in his palms. "Beautiful. And just think of the history, man."

"Yeah," Nick scoffs, "All the sculls bashed in, bones broken, knees shattered," he stuffs his hands in his pockets and enjoys the look Monroe gives him.

"Hey, those who ignore the past, etcetera, etcetera." He shakes the weapon warily in his direction before turning to a mechanic skeleton behind him. "Watch this," he props the weapon in the fist of the skeleton, perfectly aligning it with a bright orange pumpkin.

"Alright. Check this out."

The Grimm follows his friend inside, and his eyes widen upon setting on the heavily decorated interior of the house. He briefly wonders if Alba has yet to see it, but the thought escapes his mind as Monroe waves him over, excitedly pulling open the blinds of the front window.

"Okay, are you ready?" Monroe reaches up and grabs a hold of a chain that hangs from above and Nick definitely doesn't have to ask what it's for. "Here it goes," he pulls down, hard, and it cues the release of the weapon which smashes the pumpkin into hundreds of pieces.

Monroe's laughter echoes throughout the house as he claps his hands together with a smile. "That's pretty great, right?"

"Unless you're a pumpkin," Nick offers just as his cell phone rings from deep within his jacket pocket. "Burkhardt... Where... On my way," he clicks off the phone, but points it at Monroe in a weary gesture. "Now. Promise me no one's gonna get hurt."

Seriously?

Monroe sighs. If that's what Nick needs for reassurance, it's what he'll get. "Fine. I _promise."_

Seemingly good enough for him, Nick gives the place one last cursory nod before turning to leave. "Have fun tonight!" he calls over his shoulder before the door shuts behind him.

And fun, would definitely be an understatement.

xxxxx

"Are you ready, hun?" Rosalee asks, offering her hand out as she stands up from the couch where she was previously applying the lion makeup to Alba's face.

"All set!" the little one grins, taking the woman's hand in her own, and together they walk out into the crisp fall air.

Rosalee has to admit, she's pretty certain Alba is the most adorable thing to ever cross the face of the earth in her little lion costume, makeup and all.

The drive back to Monroe's house is only a few minutes long and the child is practically bouncing on her seat by the time they pull into the driveway.

"Oh my gosh," Rosalee whispers to herself through a grin as her eyes fall on the decorations that cover the entirety of the yard and house. She's not quite sure what to make of it all. Monroe knows how to celebrate the holidays, that's for sure.

She can't help but wonder what he's like around Christmas time. Surely he'll dress up like Santa Claus.

"There's my big girl!" Monroe grins as Alba bounces toward him, engulfing him in a hug.

"Are we gonna go _treat or tricking_ now?" she giggles and Monroe looks over her shoulder at Rosalee, smiling bright at her. There's no way he'll ever be able to thank her enough.

They take pictures before they go and Rosalee manages to get about fifteen of Monroe and Alba on the front porch, all fifteen frame-worthy. But it's not until about half an hour into trick or treating when a complete stranger offers to take a "family picture", that they find the best one of the night.

Both Monroe and Rosalee blush but don't deny the offer and all three of them gather for the quasi-photography to snap the picture.

He takes a few and they're all great but then suddenly, something funny is said and even though he doesn't catch it, he catches the moment in a picture instead. Monroe's grinning at Rosalee who's laughing and Alba smiles straight ahead at the camera. It's only a moment long enough to be snapped in a picture, but it's a beautiful one at the least.

Little does either Monroe or Rosalee know that, years later, that picture would be one of many that crowded the nightstand next to the bed they'd share.

xxxxx

"She seems to be enjoying herself," Rosalee points out with a smile as they watch Alba skip down the front steps of yet another house, candy bag almost filled to the brim. Her first Halloween and probably the best one she'll ever have.

Monroe looks over at her, a kind smile creasing the corners of his eyes as he looks into hers. "I appreciate you coming out with us tonight. To be honest, I don't know if I'd be able to do it alone."

Alba walks down the pathway when she suddenly catches sight of three tall boys approaching her. At first, she goes to smile at them – it is Halloween, after all. Of course she's going to be happy. But the smile quickly fades into a frown as two of the boys abruptly take hold of each of her arms and the other goes for her bag.

"Hey stop it! That's my candy, give it back!"

They only pull harder and Alba can feel the tears start to swell up in her eyes as the candy bag is torn from her grasp. So much for 'the best Halloween ever'.

The feeling of panic shoots through Rosalee's core as her eyes settle on the scene. "Monroe."

He feels her hand slide down his forearm, grip tight as it reaches his hand. He's never noticed the way people hold hands before. Not really. But with her, he takes note of the way she blindly reaches for him, catching his hand quick in hers. He's never held hands with someone with the intent of never letting go – that is until he realizes that she's only doing it to get his attention.

He follows her panicked gaze, finally clapping sight on the boys that surround Alba. Immediately pulling from her grasp, Monroe starts toward the group of bullies. "Hey!" he shouts at the boys, storming in their direction, "That's not very nice. Give her candy back!"

"Hey! I know you!" the tallest boy – the boy dressed as a skeleton points an accusing skeletal finger at the Blutbad. "You're the holiday freak who lives on Ravensview!"

Monroe chooses to ignore the statement. "Give her candy back. _Now,_" he repeats.

The boy only scoffs. "Make me."

By this point, Alba has backed away from the scenario, looking up at Rosalee with tearful eyes as she holds her arms out and of course, she obliges, lifting Alba into her arms. She carries her back over to Monroe just as he grabs a hold of the boy's ear, giving it a healthy tug.

"Ow! That hurts!"

Monroe chuckles, despite the circumstances, "That's the point."

Finally, the bag is dropped to the ground at Rosalee's feet and Alba's eyes follow it as she buries her face shyly in Rosalee's neck.

"There, I did it. Now let me go!" he tries to pull away but it only results in more pain on his end.

"Now say you're sorry."

"Ow! Okay – okay, I'm sorry," he chokes out and the tension on his earlobe is released.

"There!" Monroe starts, feeling successful, "don't you feel better? I know I do."

"_No,_" the skeleton boy mutters, "And you're gonna be sorry." All three boys glare in their direction before taking off down the street.

Rosalee can't hide the small smile that spreads across her face as she rocks Alba back and forth, whispering against the little one's hair for only her to hear, "Our hero."

"You okay, Al?" Monroe asks and the little girl nods. She allows Rosalee to set her back down to retrieve her bag of candy before she looks up at Monroe, giving him a nod.

"Can we go home now?" Alba asks through a yawn once Monroe's scooped her up in his arms.

"Sure, baby. You're sleepy, huh?"

The only thing that's considered 'close' to an answer is a firm snore against his shoulder.

xxxxx

They're barely in the house for two minutes before there are trick or treaters are on the front doorstep, ringing the doorbell, giggling outside.

"Do you want me to take her upstairs?" Rosalee offers, gesturing to Alba who gently stirs against Monroe's shoulder, covering her mouth with her tiny hand as she yawns.

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all." She takes Alba in her arms and heads up the stairs to wash her lion makeup off and get her into bed.

Approaching the window, Monroe grabs the bowl of candy and peeks through the blinds at the group of kids on his doorstep. With a grin, he tugs on the chain that hangs from above and another pumpkin aligned with the weapon explodes into hundreds of tiny pieces and the laughter of children echoes outside.

"Wow! What a great group of costumes!" Monroe exclaims, offering the kids some candy. Little does he know that just beyond his lawn, there is a group of boys – the same boys who tried to steal Alba's candy, plotting their revenge.

"What are we gonna do to him?" One of the boys asks as the three of them peer over the hedge in front of Monroe's house, watching intently as he hands out the candy.

"Payback."

Upstairs, Rosalee gently wipes away the lion makeup from the little one's face, while simultaneously trying to keep her from dozing off while she does so.

"Rosalee?" Alba mutters, her tiny hand going up to her face as she yawns, "Are you almost done? I'm sleepy."

Rosalee smiles, "I know you are, sweety," she sets the washcloth on the counter top and takes the girl's hand in her own. "And yes, I'm done now. Let's get your jammies on."

"Sing me a song?" The little girl asks once Rosalee's tucked her into bed.

She smiles once more, joining Alba on the bed. "Same one as before?"

She pulls Corduroy into her chest with a nod, and Rosalee begins to sing.

"_Lie down on your pillow/In the shadows close your eyes/Turn out the own lamp light and sing goodnight lullabies" __And just like that – by the sound of Rosalee's delicate voice and her gentle touch to her cheek, the little one drifts off into sleep._

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," Rosalee stands and carefully leans down and presses a kiss on Alba's forehead, but when she goes to turn away – to head back downstairs, something inside her changes her mind. Perhaps it's for her own sake – for comfort, but she sits back down on the edge of the double bed and finds herself humming the same song even though she knows full well that the little girl is already fast asleep. And in that moment, as she sings the lullaby and smoothes down Alba's hair with her gentle hand, she questions the tears that are suddenly filling her eyes. Maybe it's because she knows all too well that the little girl had probably never been sung to sleep before, but instead, beaten to unconsciousness, waking up to bruises all over her frail body instead of a mother and father.

However, it is a little therapeutic knowing that the child won't going to sleep unloved anymore; and that she and Monroe would never let that happen again.

The sudden sound of shattering glass from below shoots panic through her core and her neck snaps over her shoulder and then back at the sleeping child who barely stirs. Rosalee's up on her feet and flying down the stairs to find the cause of the glass that now scatters the floor, but Monroe is nowhere in sight.

Instead, he's standing on his front porch, a dark shade of red flashing in his eyes as he watches the three laughing boys take off down the street after their silly prank of using the morning star to shatter the window.

"What the hell happened?" Rosalee asks once Monroe rejoins her inside.

"It was those boys – from before," he grunts, trying to regain his composure before he – you know – starts breaking things to join the remains of his window.

"The ones who tried to take Alba's candy?"

"Yeah. And they got it on tape, too," he starts to run his hands through his dark curls and breaks out into a pace.

"Go get that phone and tell them they have to pay for the window to get it back," she offers as she begins to carefully pick up the shattered glass from the floor, avoiding slicing herself open as she does so. "Kid's will do anything for their phones. Including deleting that video."

He doesn't say anything more, but takes off down the front steps after the kids, following their scent carefully. It doesn't take long to catch up to them.

"This is so awesome!" the boy dressed as the skeleton looks down at his cell phone, watching the video of their handiwork.

"Dude," his friends starts with an eager tone in his voice, "We should totally post this."

Skeleton boy gives him a look – a look of utter stupidity and shakes his head, "We can't post this, you idiot. It's like evidence or some other crap like that. The last thing we need to do is get c_aught."_

"Play it again," boy number three silences them and just as he's about to push the button, the phone is ripped from his hand before he can get his finger on the screen.

The all spin around to see Monroe now towering over them, the phone clutched tightly in his palm.

"Hey! Give that back!"

Monroe rolls his eyes and suppresses the urge to smash the phone on the ground. "When you pay for my window, I'll be glad to give it back."

The tallest boy of the three crosses his arms, raising his eyebrows at the apparent threat. "We're not scared of _you."_

"Really, hmm..." Monroe cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes. "How about now?" And just like that, the woge takes over. Snarling at them, the boys take off, screaming like little girls in the opposite direction.

Monroe retracts, chuckling as he watches them turn the corner and out of sight.

"_Trick or treat."_

* * *

Ta-da! I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you all for being so patient with me. I appreciate it.

Let me know what you think!


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